


grab the monet and let's gogh!

by kaiba



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Gen, Haikyuu BigBang 2016, Heist AU, M/M, Mentions of Yakuza, Minor Angst, Organized Crime, Phantom Thief AU, mentions of blackmail
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-08-11 20:13:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7906054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaiba/pseuds/kaiba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It doesn’t matter how many times they’ve done this—slinking through somewhere off-limits in the dead of night—the rush of the heist never seems to fade. Adrenaline buzzes under Kuroo’s skin as he and his crew slip through the dark, empty hallways of the Tokyo National Museum. Oikawa catches sight of him and laughs. It’s a muted, giddy thing, and Kuroo can’t help but join in. This is his crew, his team, and they’ve just stolen a masterpiece— <i>again</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> drum roll please......... it's finally time to unveil my hq!! big bang 2016 piece!
> 
> i've been wanting to write a phantom thief au for literally years, and i'm so happy that i finally had an excuse to do it for this project. (thank u to J for talking me into signing up for this honestly......) it's still an ongoing fic at this time because starting a new job & other irl commitments meant i didn't have as much free time as i hoped but i'm really excited to keep writing this au and i really hope you'll enjoy it as much as i've enjoyed making it !!!!
> 
> i wanna say a huge thanks to the hq!! bb mods for putting this whole thing together. you've done an amazing job keeping this so organised hONESTLY. thank u to samantha and benny for claiming my fic, esp when i was sO CONVINCED that no one would want to. (especially thank u to benny for being the best beta in the world, if it weren't for u cleaning up my awful grammar and dialogue structure i don't know what i'd have done) and a final thank u everyone in the yahooligans group chat for holding my hand thru this whole process, including giving me gREAT advice to stupid questions about this project, daddy loves ya 
> 
> anyway !!!!!! enjoy

It doesn’t matter how many times they’ve done this, slinking through somewhere off-limits in the dead of night, the rush of the heist never seems to fade.

Adrenaline buzzes under Kuroo’s skin as he and his crew slip through the dark, empty hallways of the Tokyo National Museum. When Kuroo had first become a thief a little over a year ago, he had _never_ imagined that he would end up enjoying it as much as he does now.

Growing up, he’d always been the sort to adhere to the rules. The thought that one day he’d end up not only breaking the law, but relishing in doing so, was unthinkable. It had only been because of his grandfather and Nekomata that he’d started his life as a phantom thief. Kuroo’s first heist had been a solo one, without a solid crew to support him like the one he has behind him tonight. The act of slipping into the Tokyo Fuji Art Museum in Hachiōji had been thrilling, but equally choked with fear. Kuroo had planned the heist for a solid month and a half beforehand, but there had still been a very high risk that he’d be caught before he even reached his target— _a folding screen with a design of the Hozu river_ —and end up arrested there and then. Making it out of the museum safely, complete with his target, had proven a huge boost to his confidence. Kuroo’s nerve has only grown since then, along with his own merry band of thieves.

Terushima mirrors his excitement, grinning widely at him over the top of the woodblock print that the two of them, plus Oikawa and Kai, have been carrying towards the exit. Their path to safety is lit only by the dim glow of the light sticks on their belts and their head torches, yet there is no doubt about which way they need to go. Fukunaga and Oikawa had been extremely thorough in their recon of the museum, managing to get details on the security guard rotations, exits and camera positions. Just like Kuroo’s first heist, they’ve been planning this one for _weeks_.

Their pace is slow; the woodblock is not only priceless and valuable, it’s heavy too. Fortunately, it’s not long before the emergency exit they’d been heading for appears. Komi is waiting for them there with the door propped open. Oikawa catches sight of him and laughs. It’s a muted, giddy thing, and Kuroo can’t help but join in. This is his crew, his team, and they’ve just stolen a masterpiece,  _again_.

Saeko’s van is just beyond the door, already running and ready to go. It’s risky, someone could easily overhear the hum of the Toyota’s engine, but it’s a necessary risk. Kai had managed to arrange for one of the park keepers to leave the service gates open, but only for a small window of time. With how long they’ve spent gaining access to the museum and acquiring their target for the night, it doesn’t leave them much time to make their getaway before they’re locked in or the police discover their escape route.

“Komi, grab the bungee cords. They’re in the back of the van,” Kuroo commands, re-adjusting his grip on the corner of the woodblock. It’s starting feel like dead weight now, and he’ll be glad when it’s out of their hands and safely secured in the large padded case they’ve prepared for it. “We only have another five minutes until the guards reach the section of the museum we hit, and _maybe_ fifteen until those gates are locked. We’ve got to get this thing secured fast.”

Komi acknowledges the order with a grin and a two fingered salute, and is gone in a flash. He's easily the fastest member of the crew, and it comes in handy on their heists. The four of them have only just finished maneuvering the woodblock out of the slim emergency exit when Komi returns with the bungee cords thrown over his shoulder.

They’ve managed to ease it into the back of the van and are in the process of securing it when the shrill blare of alarms starts to sound. The noise surprises Kuroo so much that he drops his bungee cord, and Terushima jolts so sharply that he smacks his head on the side of the van with a hissed, _‘fuck!’_

“I thought those were supposed to be bypassed!” Kuroo hisses, scrambling to pick up the cord so he can finishing attaching it to his side of the case. His words aren’t aimed at anyone in particular, and there’s no accusation in them. The echo of the alarm combined with their slim window for escape is enough for a sour hint of panic to flare under his ribs, even though he knows, logically, that they can make it out. This isn’t the first time that something has gone wrong on one of their heists, and his crew had managed to push through the pressure to pull off their job then.

“Kenma did say he could probably only buy us some time. He’s not a professional when it comes to this kind of thing, remember,” Kai chimes in from the other side of the woodblock, curbing Kuroo’s spiralling nerves before they can spill too far out of control. Kai finishes securing his bungee cord with nimble but steady hands. He’s as calm in this moment as he was just hours before, as he is in his day-to-day life. Kuroo feels a rush of affection for him, thankful to have him along as a grounding force amid the chaotic high and adrenaline burn of their heists.

“Okay… yeah…” Kuroo exhales slowly.

He takes a few steadying breaths before he finishes clipping his bungee cord across the woodblock, taking a moment to quickly check the other cords to make sure they’re completely secure. Saeko’s driving tends to be a little reckless. It’s proven invaluable for their getaways, but they’ve already had one close call with a Ming vase that they hadn’t secured well enough. He doesn't want to risk a repeat of that this time.

“Right, everyone belt up,” Kuroo instructs, settling quickly into a seat. “You’re in front, Kai. As soon as he’s in, get us out of here Saeko!”

True to Kuroo’s direction, Saeko wastes absolutely no time. She floors the accelerator before Kai has even had time to properly close the door, and the little Toyota shoots away from the building in just a few short seconds. There’s a grin on her face that almost seems to stretch from ear to ear. She's always left waiting outside for them, but she feels just the same rush as the rest of them do on their heists. The gates are still open when they reach them, and Kuroo breathes a sigh of relief as the van passes through unscathed. He doesn’t want to think how close they cut it, probably only getting out with minutes to spare before they were locked tight again.

There’s a giddiness that lingers over van, but the rush of adrenaline has dimmed to a pleasant warmth in all of their limbs by the time that Saeko has put the museum and Ueno Park several miles behind them. Terushima and Komi are chatting animatedly in seats nearest to the van doors, loud and jubilant.

“I didn't get to use it this time either!” Terushima whines, pulling his head torch off as he slumps back in his seat. He’s wearing what can only be described as a pout, almost petulant, and it’s enough to remind Kuroo that he’s still only a kid. “I'm so pissed!”

“I still don’t get why you bought it in the first place,” Komi snorts from across the van, in the midst of tugging off his gloves, “when are you ever going to need a _grappling hook_ on a heist?”

“Hey, shut up!” Terushima exclaims, shooting Komi a wicked glare back, “ _everyone_ knows it’s the staple of a phantom thief. All the anime thieves have one!”

Kuroo snickers, but eventually tunes them out. He’s used to their back and forth banter by now. It’s been months since Terushima joined the crew, and he and Komi have been like this from day one. It’s all good-natured ribbing, so he doesn’t feel the need to step in and break it up. Instead, Kuroo turns his attention to the others in the van. Oikawa is frowning in the seat across from him. He's been strangely quiet since they’d cleared the park gates and made it safely onto the main highway in Taitō-ku. It's unlike Oikawa, who was usually just as difficult to quiet after a successful job.

“What’s wrong?” Kuroo asks. He leans forward slightly, so that he won’t have to strain to hear Oikawa over the engine and the distant sigh of traffic on the road around them.

Oikawa hums absently in reply, tapping his fingers against his thigh. “It’s… nothing, really. I was just going over everything. It was tight getting out this time. Don't you think?”

“You think we sent the calling card too early?” Kuroo questions, thinking back to the warning card they’d sent to the museum just three days ago. Warning the institutions they were going to steal from had been something he’d insisted on doing from the beginning, even when it had been him alone. Inspired by the stories of phantom thieves he'd heard when he was small, to Kuroo, it seemed only right to give their targets a fair chance to prepare. At the very least, it made sure that none of the employees could be blamed or fired for the theft.

“They were able to prepare for us quicker than we were expecting them to. Kenma did well with the alarms, and we were lucky with the guards and police not being in the right wing, but I don’t think we should leave any risk next time,” Kai replies instead of Oikawa, twisting in his seat in the front so that he can see them a little better.

From the driver's seat, Saeko barks out a laugh. “What do you dummies expect? We’re famous now, ‘ _course_ they were on high alert after they got our calling card.”

Kuroo has to admit that she has a point.

The days when he’d first started, a lone phantom thief sneaking into minimum security museums to steal his targets are long gone. So too are the days where they’d first formed as a crew, flexing their collective fingers and gradually tackling bigger, more impressive targets. The media had somehow gotten wind of their calling cards, and things had only snowballed from there. Affectionately named the ‘Cat Burglars’ by the press, they’d rocketed to front page and headline news in little under a week after the first article had been published. Every heist from there on out became a media whirlwind, and they’d had to make sure to additionally account for reporters and news vans in the nearby area when they made their getaways. Kuroo hadn’t realised that their fame had impacted their heists this much though. It’s a worrying thought, and a development that doesn’t bode well if more of their targeted institutions follow the same pattern and are able to bolster their security just as quickly as the last.

Saeko turns off of the highway, trading the bustle of constant traffic for the far quieter side streets. The loft they’ve rented for their headquarters, and as the safe house for their stolen artworks, isn’t too much further away. Once they’ve ensured the woodblock has been safely stowed there, they can all afford to relax for the night.

“You’re right,” Kuroo finally agrees, “for the next heist, we’ll send the calling card out a few days later. Hopefully that’ll give us the advantage next time around.”

“Why don’t we just not send a warning at all, Boss?” Terushima suggests. He and Komi have turned eagerly to follow the discussion at the front of the van. “That way we always have the advantage, because they don’t have the chance to get ready for us.”

To any other thief, that’s the safest approach to take. Kuroo is positive that he’s the only thief currently active in Japan that insists on warning his targets before he plans to steal from them. He’s just as positive that he’ll never go back on the code he’s set for himself.

“No. We always warn our targets,” Kuroo replies. His voice is no louder than normal, but his tone leaves no doubt that there’s no room to argue this point further. “Or we’re no better than snakes.”

 

*****

 

_The Crow’s Nest_ is crowded by the time that Kuroo arrives, having safely stashed the woodblock and returned to his apartment to freshen up. It’s only a small place, a little jazz bar in Ginza, but the atmosphere is energetic and warm. There’s something about the buzz of laughter and the three-piece band on stage that always helps him relax after a heist. It’s like sinking into a warm bath at the end of a long day.

The rest of his crew have managed to arrive before him, though Kuroo isn’t surprised by this. His apartment is easily the furthest away, and he’d wanted to check on the rest of their stolen cache before heading home anyway. Komi waves at him from across the room, where he’s gathered in a booth with Oikawa, Kai and Terushima, as well as Fukunaga and Ennoshita, who hadn't joined them on the heist that night because of clashing work shifts.

Kuroo offers his own wave back, a sign that he’s spotted them and will be there soon. He heads towards the bar first, in desperate need of a drink to chase away the stress of the last few weeks spent juggling his pharmaceutical internship and planning a heist. He waits for a good five minutes before Daichi appears to serve him, looking rather harried as he takes Kuroo’s order. Given that Hinata seems to have smashed an entire shelf of wine glasses and Kageyama has been accosted by a gaggle of middle-aged businesswomen after serving them, that’s not particularly surprising. Kuroo takes it easy on Daichi for once, ordering a beer and leaving the other man to his manic staff without much prodding.

By the time Kuroo reaches the booth, Kenma has arrived, as quietly as ever. Kuroo easily slips in next to him, finding Kenma’s hand under the table and interlocking their fingers. It’s not the most romantic of greetings, but it’s enough for both of them. The kind of attention a kiss would bring among this crew is one that he knows Kenma wouldn’t be comfortable with. This is more than enough for him anyway, just having Kenma close by has always been a comfort. 

“Hey, look! That girl’s there again! The cute one with the glasses at the end of the bar,” Terushima hisses conspiratorially across the booth. A little shy of his twentieth birthday, he’s not yet old enough to legally drink, and is three-quarters of the way through a mocktail instead. “You know, Futamata told me last week when we were here that apparently— _get this_ —she’s the long lost granddaughter of the Emperor!”

Ennoshita snorts, and his plum wine almost comes shooting out of his nose. When he’s managed to contain his spluttering, he laughs. It’s a low, quiet thing, filled with unspoken playfulness. “And you believe _everything_ that Futamata says?”

“Yeah, dumbass,” Komi cuts in, grinning widely as he twirls his empty Asahi bottle between his hands. He’s already several drinks ahead of everyone else, cheeks pink with warmth from the alcohol and voice pitched just a little louder than normal. It’s not enough to disturb the other patrons, especially with the jazz band still playing across the bar, and Kuroo wouldn’t have the heart to rein him in anyway even if it was. “ _Everyone_ knows that she’s really some kind of famous idol. The glasses are just a clever disguise to throw us off.”

Terushima sticks his tongue out at Komi and Ennoshita in retaliation, and Kuroo can’t help but smile at their antics. After the job they pulled off tonight, with such a high margin for things to go wrong, they all deserve a chance to celebrate before they’re thrown back into the thick of it again.

Kai and Oikawa seem content enough with their own conversation, ignoring the bickering. Kenma shifts a little closer to Kuroo, absently listening in to Oikawa’s story. His fingers are still tangled with Kuroo’s under the table, their thighs pressed together in a soft, warm line.

Kuroo knows it won’t be long before they’ll all be juggling work or study schedules with planning their next heist—he has an early start himself tomorrow—but for tonight at least, they can unwind. All thoughts of thieves and heists are pushed aside for now. He takes a long sip from his beer bottle and feels the tension finally, welcomingly, slip from his shoulders.


	2. Chapter 2

“Boss, _c’mon_...” Terushima whines. His voice is muffled from where he’s slumped across the table. He’s still in his work uniform, having travelling straight to Ukai’s udon bar straight after his shift at Lawson had ended.

They’d originally started coming to eat here as a whole crew because it’s where Saeko works more nights than not, making it easy to keep her updated. Months later, it’s remained a regular spot for them all to meet, even when they don’t have heists to plan. Ukai’s place is always busy, though—with great food and even better prices, it’s no surprise—and tonight is no different.

By the time they’d all arrived after work and lectures, the only free space had been a couple of small tables pushed together in the back corner of the restaurant. Saeko had been unable to make it, working another shift at her second job, but even without her, it had been a struggle to fit them all. Somehow, after much maneuvering not unlike a game of tetris, they’d managed. Kenma had wedged himself between Kuroo and Fukunaga, while Oikawa had slotted in beside Komi and Ennoshita on the other side. Kai had ended up drawing the short straws, having to perch on the corner of the table with both of his elbows tucked in tightly.

“You’ve _gotta_ have another target scouted by now,” Terushima continues to complain, “my fingers are starting to itch, it’s been _ages_ since our last job.”

“ _Quiet down_ , will you?” Ennoshita hisses, swiftly slapping the back of Terushima’s head. “Do you want the whole place knowing who we are? Besides, you have a job now, it’s not like you even _need_ to steal anymore.”

“Well, _yeah_ , I know that,” Terushima huffs as he sits up properly. There’s a frown crinkling between his eyes as he sags back against his chair, rubbing the back of his head. “But I didn’t just pickpocket because I was on the street and had to do it to get by, y’know. I got a kick out of it too.”

“That doesn’t take a genius to figure out. I’m pretty sure the grin on your face was what tipped me off that you were trying to steal my wallet,” Kuroo snickers. It’s better that he steps in before another bout of bickering can break out. He knows Ennoshita and Terushima work well together, but they’re still prone to getting a little too heated when they bicker. Sometimes, their words bite a little too deep. When they’re in private, it’s not as much of a problem. They can work through their argument without worrying about other people being around, but Kuroo generally likes to avoid any of his crew making a scene in public. The last thing any of them need is to draw unnecessary or negative attention to themselves.

Pink flushes high across Terushima’s cheeks, and they all end up laughing at his sputtered protests.

Their food arrives shortly after, and none of them waste any time in digging into the steaming udon bowls set down in front of them. The atmosphere that settles over the table is warm, a product of how close they’ve all become as a crew and as friends. While they eat, the topic of their next target is set aside. Instead, their conversations are filled with laughter, idle chatter and amusing anecdotes from work or university.  Kuroo feels a rush of affection for all of them as he chews on a tender cut of meat from his bowl, listening to Komi’s blow-by-blow account of the Hanshin Tigers game last night against the Yomiuri Giants. It’s not until they’ve finished their meals, stuffed and content with full bellies, that Kuroo shifts the conversation back to their next job.

“Look, Terushima’s right,” he begins, and a hush falls over the group as he speaks, “I’ve been scouting for our next target since our last job, but nothing’s turned up so far. There’s… one last resort left, someone who might be able to help, but—”

“Why d’you sound so pissed about it?” Komi chimes in, absolutely shameless about interrupting. He’s never been the sort to hold back in voicing his thoughts. “It’s not like we haven’t used contacts before to help us out.”

Kuroo sighs.

“Yeah, but this isn’t like Asahi helping us out on the kimono job. He's kind of... _shady_.”

“What makes him so different?” Oikawa questions. He’s been reasonably quiet until now, but there’s an eagerness in his eyes as he leans forward and props himself up on the table with his elbows. Although he’s not exactly as open about it as Terushima is, Oikawa finds just as much of a thrill in being a thief. Before he’d joined Kuroo’s crew, he’d been little more than the pampered second son of a well-known banking family, bored by it all and itching for something to stimulate his mind. “I mean, we’re _thieves_ , Tetsu-chan. By definition, we’re also kind of shady.”

Kenma shoots Kuroo a _look_ when he doesn’t immediately reply to Oikawa. Until now he’s been paying more attention to his phone than the conversation, but he’ll always set that aside if he knows Kuroo needs support. Kuroo knows exactly what the look means; it’s Kenma’s way of asking: _‘are you sure about this?’_. Kenma is fully aware of who Kuroo is talking about, even though he’s never met him. It’s something that Kuroo has always been very insistent about, that Kenma didn’t come with them on heists or to meet their contacts. It was Kuroo’s way to keep him safe, in case they were ever arrested. Truthfully, the arrangement suited Kenma just fine; helping to plan a heist requires far less energy than actually taking part in it. It doesn’t make him any less a part of the crew, and he’s always the first person that Kuroo chooses to confide in, so it’s never as if he’s out of the loop.

Kuroo smiles tightly.

The truth is, he’s not sure about this at all.

“Because he’s not just another museum employee or low-level council officer… he’s yakuza.”

 

*****

 

An hour later, Kuroo finds himself pressed between Kai and Oikawa on the Tokyo Metro Hibiya Line to Roppongi. He’d half been hoping that they’d missed the rush when they changed at Ebisu, but it seems as if this route is even busier than the JR Line. The train is filled with businessmen and women, most of them still dressed in pressed suits and crisp skirts, no doubt on their way to one of the many bars in Roppongi to celebrate the end of the working week.

Komi, Terushima, Kenma and Ennoshita had split off after settling their bill at Ukai’s, scattering at Shinjuku station to various different lines to head home for the night. Kuroo laments that he’s not doing the same, and tries to ignore the anxiety settling low in his belly. Asking a favour from this particular contact is never a simple thing. He never asks for money as payment for his information, instead insisting that his clients pay in secrets or favours. Kuroo has only ever had to rely on him once before, but he had hoped that would be the last time he’d need to. Yet knowing that his limited resources have been stretched to their limits, there aren’t a lot of other options left now.

“We’re up next,” Oikawa says, scanning around them briefly to find the nearest door. The announcement for their station sounds through the tannoy, and the majority of the crowd around them start shifting, getting ready to disembark. “Which way out of the station are we headed?”

“Towards Roppongi Hills; he keeps a room at the Grand Hyatt,” Kuroo responds as the train pulls into the station. The rush of people flooding out of the doors is immediate, and gives them all some much needed breathing room as they trail out after the crowds heading towards the exits. It’s getting late, but the air is still full of chatter and laughter as people head towards various izakayas and bars nearby.

“Of course he does,” Oikawa huffs, his nose crinkling in mild distaste. He knows the kind of people who keep rooms at hotels like this: power hungry, overly wealthy men and women. They’re the people who run in his father’s social circle, and he’s had to suffer through small talk with them on more than one occasion. He knows how to handle them—he’s nothing if not clever with his words—but it’s never something he particularly enjoys.

The night is relatively mild as they exit the station. There’s a chill in the air when the wind blows, but otherwise, it’s a pleasant change. The entire city is lit with tall, towering buildings, each one drenched in lights from top to bottom. The Grand Hyatt hotel cuts a striking image amid the skyline, looming above the three of them long before they reach the front lobby.

Kuroo leads them straight past the reception desk, making a beeline towards the elevators. The _Maduro_ bar is only a few floors up, and it doesn’t take long for the elevator to carry them there. Despite the hour, the bar seems busy when they step out. It’s more than half full, and the spice of cigarette smoke hangs in the air. Across the room, Kuroo can already spot the lithe figure of the man they’ve come to see.

After they spend a few moments showing IDs to the security guards by the entrance to confirm they’re all of age, Kuroo leads them across the room towards the bar. Kai seems somewhat on edge to be here, while Oikawa strides easily between the tables as if there’s nowhere else he’d be more comfortable. Kuroo isn’t surprised; he’s never been the sort to let himself show it even if he is intimidated.

Their contact turns to face them as they reach the bar, setting aside a tall, empty glass.  To Kai, he’s not at all like he’d expected a member of the yakuza to be, leaving him wondering just how accurate the hulking, tattooed characters in mafia movies really are. He looks far more casual than most of the other patrons, dressed in simple grey slacks and a salmon coloured shirt. The flush of pink complements the silver tinge to his ash blonde hair.

“Kuroo, how wonderful to see you again,” their contact says, greeting Kuroo with a too-tight handshake that just crosses the border into painful. It’s not long before the man’s attention is captured by the other two beside Kuroo. Under that hundred watt smile, Kai can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed, as if he and Oikawa are being appraised. The man might not look like a stereotypical yakuza, but there’s no denying the cleverness behind that gaze.

After a moment, the man smiles. It’s an impish thing, crinkling around the corners of his eyes, beneath one of which sits a small beauty mark.

“And you,” Kuroo replies, polite despite the uneasiness rolling around his stomach, “although I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again, Sugawara.”

“Didn’t you?” Sugawara responds. He sounds coy, but there’s a subtle mischief in his voice as he exhales a soft, exaggerated sigh. “And here I was with the feeling you’d need my help again. Ah… well, we can discuss that in private. My room is just a few floors up, and the view is simply _to die_ for.”

He slips from the bar stool with ease, leaving a crisp thousand yen note on the bar beside his empty glass. He doesn’t bother to wait for his change, instead leading them from the bar. He swiftly coaxes introductions from Oikawa and Kai, engaging them in easy conversation all the way up in the elevator.

If he were anyone else, Kuroo is sure the warm personality would be soothing, but appearances can be deceiving. Ukai Ikkei might be the official _oyabun_ of the Karasuno-kai, but Kuroo knows that these days it’s mostly in name alone. Sugawara is the real power behind the syndicate. For all the smiles and laughs that Sugawara brings to life, there’s still blood on his hands.

For what seems like the millionth time tonight, Kuroo wishes he could have caught the subway home with Kenma instead.

 

*****

 

Sugawara’s room turns out to be the Ambassador Suite, and it’s certainly a step up from the little bar in Aoyama that Kuroo had met him in last time.

Windows cover the entirety of one side of the suite, stretching from floor to ceiling. There are no blinds and the curtains aren’t drawn, allowing the night lights of Roppongi to shine into the suite without interruption. The main room is huge, and Kuroo is convinced this room alone is bigger than his apartment back in Nakano-ku. The kitchenette is set off to one side, filled with appliances that look as though they’ve never been used, and several other doorways lead off into other rooms at the end of the suite.

It’s far more space than one person could ever possibly need, but for the _wakagashira_ of a yakuza group, it’s fairly par for the course. Sugawara needs the right kind of surroundings to conduct his business and in order to keep up the right image. The cost of maintaining a room like this is undoubtedly astronomical, but Kuroo doubts that the Karasuno-kai syndicate is lacking in the funds needed to pay for it. They've always been an omnivorous sort of organisation, choosing to keep their fingers in a great many different things rather than crafting a monopoly on one particular market like most other yakuza groups seem to do. They only seem to be expanding their influence with each week that passes.

All of them slip off their shoes in the entryway, exchanging them for one of the numerous pairs of slippers waiting in the box beside the door. Once they’ve stowed their outdoor shoes to the side, Sugawara leads them through the suite. He gives them a brief tour as they go, pointing out each room they pass as they head towards the dining room.

Unlike the rest of the suite, which boasts a distinctly western style, this room is more traditional. It’s decorated simply, with tatami flooring and plain, cream walls broken up only by a few calligraphy wall scrolls. There are several cushions surrounding a long, low table at the centre of the room, upon which a bottle of sake and several glasses are already waiting for them. It’s no doubt something that’s always prepared, just in case Sugawara has to entertain a _guest_. He certainly knows how to play the game, and being a good host is undoubtedly a tactic he employs well.

“If you’re here for more information on the list of artworks you showed me last time,”—Sugawara’s tone is conversational at best as he settles himself down on one of the cushions, as if he’s not arranging to aid and abet a prolific ring of thieves. He flips the glasses over, and pours a generous amount of sake in each—“I can certainly do my best to help.”

“And what’s in this for you? What do you stand to gain from this?” Oikawa demands, ignoring the sake pushed towards him. There’s a slight furrow between his eyes, and his shoulders are bunched. He’s grandstanding a little, a knee-jerk reaction from being exposed to something unfamiliar, but Sugawara doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest. If anything, he seems to relish the challenge, flashing Oikawa a wide, unwavering smile.

“Who said I had anything to gain?” His voice is laced with mischief, and he arches an eyebrow slowly in reply. “Perhaps I’ve _always_ just been this kind.”

“That would be a very _refreshing_ attitude for a yakuza to have,” Oikawa replies, his lips twisted into a self-assured smile that both Kuroo and Kai _know_ from past experience spells trouble. Oikawa Tooru is a force to be reckoned with. He’s determined and clever, but with that comes a part to him that’s childish and petty; something that he proves as he leans forward to engage Sugawara further. “—if it were _true_.”

“Oikawa…” Kai cuts in, flashing him a _look_ that’s undoubtedly meant to get him to back off. He has none of the rashness that flows through Oikawa when he gets worked up, and he’s rational enough to know that baiting a man like Sugawara during their first meeting isn’t the wisest move. Sugawara has been nice enough so far, almost obnoxiously so, but Kai hasn’t forgotten that he’s a man with almost a whole criminal syndicate wrapped around his fingers.

“No, no, let him speak. He clearly has plenty left to say,” Sugawara says, and Oikawa wastes no time in responding to his invitation to speak. 

“If I know one thing about yakuza, it’s that they don’t do anything for _free_ , or go around helping people like us out of the good of their hearts,” Oikawa continues, “it’s all about their reputation and doing things to build that reputation.”

“Ah, is that so?” Sugawara hums in reply. He’s still smiling widely across the table at Oikawa, but there’s an edge of _something_ tucked unsettlingly into the dimples at the corners of his lips, almost as if he’s enjoying Oikawa winding himself up. “Well, you’re only _half_ right. I’m not doing this for free, and the Boss does believe there's something for us to gain in helping you, but _I’m_ offering to help because I want to. Our organisation would continue on the same as ever whether I helped you or not, so it's really got nothing to do with maintaining our reputation." 

“What?” Oikawa huffs, but Sugawara appears to ignore him. 

“Rooting for the underdog is always more rewarding, don’t you think?” he says instead, swiftly bringing an end to the discussion by shifting his body to face Kuroo more directly. It’s a subtle move, just a little passive aggressive, but ultimately effective as Oikawa doesn’t press the matter any further. “But speaking of _helping_ , I believe it’s time I named my price.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Kuroo groans. He’s been dreading this moment since he called Sugawara about needing his help earlier that evening. The last time, the favour that he’d asked Kuroo for as payment had only been a simple thing—delivering a package to a letterbox in a high-rise apartment block in Azabu-jūban—but there’s no guarantee this request will be quite so easy. “What am I doing for you this time?”

“You’re a thief, take a guess,” Sugawara replies with a breathy laugh. “I need you to retrieve a document for me, something vital for an expansion project the Boss has planned.”

“This document—” Kai asks quietly. He’s only spoken a few times since they arrived at the hotel, and most of that had been on the way up to the suite. This kind of situation is entirely foreign to him. He’s never dealt with anyone from the underworld like Sugawara before and his nerves have been getting the best of him. At the mention of a heist, however, he can’t contain himself. “—where is it?”

“It’s in the National Diet Library here in Tokyo,” Sugawara replies as he sets his glass down on the table, “somewhere in the archives, according to my sources.”

Kuroo is grateful for the sake now, and half wonders if Sugawara had known that he’d need something to take the edge off of his request. It’s a _far_ bigger job than anything they’ve ever taken on before. It’s not just a private museum or institution like their usual targets, but a government funded building. That means both high security _and_ high risk.

“That’s my price,” Sugawara prompts, “do we have a deal?”

Kuroo sighs through gritted teeth, trying to resist the urge to down his drink. It’s a _huge_ ask on Sugawara’s part, and Kuroo’s gut feeling is that it’s too much even for them. His crew are arguably the best thieves currently active in Japan, but that doesn’t mean they’re ready to take on something like this. He chances a quick glance at Oikawa and Kai, but he can’t decipher whether their expressions mean he should say yes or no.

“Alright...” he agrees eventually, biting back the sour taste on his tongue. It doesn’t sit well with him at all, but he knows that this is the only option he has left to track down the rest of the artwork he has targeted. “We have a deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has some [amazing art](http://kkenmaaa.tumblr.com/post/149970206667/this-is-my-submission-for-the-2016-hqbb) to accompany it thanks to samantha, who was partnered with my fic for hqbb!


	3. Chapter 3

The crew gets to work almost immediately planning the National Diet Library.

Once, it had been just Kuroo trying to work out all the fine details of his heists, but with the thieves that have joined him in the past year, he can afford to relax a little. With a team he can rely on, it’s easier to spread out the jobs needed to prepare for a big heist like this. Terushima, Komi and Ennoshita are left in charge of gathering the equipment they’re going to need, as well as making sure their current ear pieces and head torches are still in working order. Saeko works on the escape route on her breaks at Ukai’s udon bar, making notes on which roads and highways are going to get them the furthest away the fastest. Kuroo, Kenma and Kai normally work out the itinerary for the actual heist, but the majority of the reconnaissance falls to Oikawa and Fukunaga.

Oikawa is hardly the type anyone would expect to be running recon, bright and bold and usually making an impression wherever he goes; but he’s got a way with words, and he knows how to play the game. Furthermore, his name opens a lot of doors. In many cases, literally. Most museum curators or exhibition staff are only too happy to show him the more off limits areas when they find out he’s an Oikawa. During the preparations for one of their past heists, Oikawa had even managed to talk the curator into giving him a full explanation of the pressure pad alarm system around the vase they would later steal.

Fukunaga is the one who blends in. He’s quiet and unassuming, not attracting too much attention, if any at all, when he visits their targeted museums or archives. His modest aura gives him the freedom to collect the information that Oikawa cannot. Fukunaga is often the one who snaps the photos of security camera positions, emergency exits and makes note of the guard routes and schedules to bring back to the rest of the crew.

The preparation and recon work takes a little longer this time around, especially since Oikawa makes much less headway than usual. Much of their intel comes from Fukunaga’s subtle but sure investigations instead, or whatever information about the building they can find in books and old architectural plans. Fukunaga is able to capture the locations of the cameras and guard rotations in the public wing over the course of a fortnight, which is a huge help for Kuroo, Kenma and Kai to factor in while they plan the routes in and out. Oikawa manages to pull a little information regarding the restricted wing from one of the receptionists on duty when he visits, a petite blonde girl with a rather nervous disposition, but the doors remain locked even to his lofty family reputation.

Kuroo had expected this job to be harder than any they’ve taken on before, but the struggle to find enough information to thoroughly plan this heist feels like swimming upstream. This National Diet Library isn’t anything like their usual targets, maintained by private companies or owners with minimum security features. It’s an archive intended to serve the members of the Diet, some of the most high-powered men and women in Japan, and to store thousands of vital documents and artefacts related to parliamentary history. Security is notoriously tight, even more so after the library opened up several wings for public access just shy of a decade ago. The director, Noritada Otaki, had certainly made sure of that.

Oikawa’s name still carries weight, but those working in the National Diet Library aren’t as easily impressed or fooled. The staff know exactly who the Oikawa family is, but they’re used to dealing with influential politicians, foreign ambassadors and diplomats on a regular basis. They’re certainly not as forthcoming about indulging a banker’s son as the usual museum curators, who seem to think that schmoozing the son of an influential family will land them a hefty donation or better funding.

A fortnight after their reconnaissance and planning began, the crew is forced to come to terms with the fact that they’ll have to cope with some blind spots on this job. Their intel isn’t airtight, which leaves all of them—Kuroo in particular—anxious about what the heist might bring. It’s not ideal and it’s certainly not the kind of heist that Kuroo would be comfortable going ahead with if it were his choice, but he knows that they can’t afford to drag this on forever. He can only trust that his crew and the infiltration team going into the library with him will be able to cope with the gaps in their knowledge, and roll with anything unexpected that might come their way.

Thinking about this job reminds Kuroo of his first heist all over again, the rush of it all choked with fear.

Just over three weeks after the meeting with Sugawara, they’re ready to get underway.

Their calling card is sent out as usual, after much debate in which Kuroo had almost been convinced to forgo it just this once. They’ve left a much smaller window of warning for the National Diet Library than any of their other jobs though, only delivering it the morning of their heist rather than three days prior like normal.

They’ve been vague about the target they’re going to steal too, not only to avoid the wing they need being crowded with security, but in the hope that it might draw attention to other wings in the museum. The item they’re after for Sugawara—an old map of Shinjuku’s Golden Gai—certainly isn’t the most valuable document in the National Diet Library. If the security staff believe they’re there to steal something a little more important, there’s a good chance that they’ll redirect guards away from other areas in order to offer more protection to the most expensive pieces.

Juggling the additional planning and the entire crew’s various day-to-day schedules has been hard work, and though he's still extremely anxious, Kuroo is glad that it’s finally about to begin.

He only takes a small team with him to infiltrate the building this time. The map is only small, easily able to be carried by one person, so the others are only really there for support. Still, taking more than a couple of his crew on a heist as sensitive as this one is a risk he’s not willing to take. He’s selected Oikawa and Terushima to accompany him tonight. Neither of them is the most level-headed when the panic sets in, but they’ve both got the sharp minds and quick reactions that this heist needs. The rest of the crew are huddled in the back of Saeko’s van nearby, in constant contact in the instance that something goes wrong and they’re needed.

Kuroo, Terushima and Oikawa manage to slip into the National Diet Library via a disused emergency tunnel from the forties. It had been boarded up long ago when it was no longer needed, but thankfully the funds had never been produced to brick it up completely. Once they’re able to ease up the floorboards, the tunnel leads them out into what should hopefully be a low-security area in the sub-level archives. As they pull themselves out of the tunnel, the click of their earpieces lets them know they’re connected back to rest of the crew in the van.

“Alright, we’re in,” Kuroo says, flicking on his head torch, “time to go get that map.”

Ennoshita takes over at that point, guiding them through the darkened hallways as best he can over their earpieces. The blueprints of the layouts of each floor they managed to find in the old architectural archives prove to be pretty reliable. Kuroo, Oikawa and Terushima only need to double back on themselves a couple of times as they head up towards the wing they need.

The fact that it’s going well so far takes some of the edge off of the tension that’s been plaguing them since this heist began. It’s almost easy to forget they’ve come into this with a million blind spots.

Roughly half an hour, and several flights of stairs later, Ennoshita gives them the news they’ve been waiting to hear since they first entered the building.

“According to this…” he says, voice crackling over the earpiece, “you’re in the right room now. There should be several rows of mobile shelving units somewhere, can you see them? The map is in one of the folders stored there.”

“There!” Terushima is quick to respond, pointing down towards the end of the room. There’s a little light flowing in from the window where the heavy, velvet curtains haven’t been drawn, but his head torch does the rest of the job and illuminates several roller stacks tucked behind the rows of old, oak bookshelves.

The three of them dart across the room, their torches lighting them a clear path between the tables, bookshelves and display cases until they reach the stacks they’re after. This is one of their blind spots. They’d not been able to get the exact classification number of the document they’re there for, and so realistically, it could have been anywhere in this wing. Luck seems to be on their side, for the moment at least, because on the side of each roller stack is a laminated list detailing what document collections and maps are stored there.

“Terushima, you check the lists on the first three stacks, Oikawa the next three and I’ll take the last three,” Kuroo orders, shuffling down towards the other end of the stacks. Hopefully, the lists will be clear enough for them to narrow down which collection they need to be looking in. The longer they’re here and not on the way out, the more antsy he gets.

Kuroo doesn't have any luck on the first two of his stacks, and apparently neither does Terushima, whom he sees flit from one stack to another out of the corner of his eye. Oikawa takes a little more time scanning over the lists on his, not wanting to miss anything.

“Setagaya… Shibuya…” he mutters, scanning the sign on one of his stacks, “Shinagawa… Shinjuku! This is the one! It's got to be in here!”

They’ve barely managed to squeeze themselves into the row between two stacks when their luck turns. Voices echo from down the hallway, and all three of them freeze as the sound of footsteps joins them. According to the vague intel they’d managed to gather, there shouldn’t be any guard rotations in this part of the library for another hour. It had looked as if the gamble with the calling card had paid off anyway, and all the extra security had been placed in other, more valuable parts of the library. Terushima and Oikawa flash him wide-eyed looks as the footsteps grow louder and their window of time to do something closes a little more. Kuroo can feel the cold sting of panic starting to set in.

“No, no, no—” he hisses, whipping his head around to scan the room beyond the stacks for some other escape route they might be able to make use of.

“Kuroo, what’s wrong?” Kai’s low voice calls in his earpiece. “Do you need back-up?”  

“No!” Kuroo answers immediately, in the same frantic tone as before, “but we’ve got guards incoming! They must have changed the routes or something after they got our calling card. Trying to find a way out now before they get here.”

One of the guards laughs, and it rings so loudly in the hallway that they’re clearly much closer than Kuroo had thought they were. There’s no way they can make it back down the hallway before the security guards reach this point, at least not without passing right by them or alerting them. He’s had to deal with being chased just once on a heist, and it’s not an experience he’s eager to repeat tonight, especially when they haven’t been able to map out all the possible escape routes. _Maybe if they can somehow loop around the guards when they enter the room?_

“Hide!” he blurts out instead, and the three of them scatter like marbles. “Radio silence until I give the all clear!”

Oikawa slips behind a marble statue of Adonis in the corner, attempting to hide his body behind it by mirroring the statue’s pose. Terushima, left with few other options, scurries up the nearest ladder, pulling up onto the top of one of the oak bookshelves further into the room. It's not ideal, but laying flat against it with his dark clothes and head torch turned off, Kuroo can only see him in the dimness of the room because he’s looking for him. He himself scrambles across to the heavy curtains by the window, curling himself behind one of them. He can only hope that their thick folds are enough to conceal him while the guards pass through.

“Told you we’d have an easy time of it in this wing tonight,” one of them comments as they move through the room towards another part of the wing. Apparently, they’ve detected nothing out of the ordinary, but from what Kuroo can tell, they haven’t made much of an effort to check the room out. “The Cat Burglars are _bound_ to hit the third floor collection. That’s why they stationed so many police officers up there, right?”

It’s stiflingly hot behind the weighty fabric of the curtain Kuroo’s tangled himself in, and the dust that's been shrugged up from the motion of the fabric is making his eyes water. His heart is beating so loudly he’s almost convinced that the guards are going to hear it. The few short minutes it takes for the guards’ voices to filter out as they head further away feel like _eons_.

Neither Terushima nor Oikawa move until Kuroo does, poking his head out from behind the curtain once he’s positive the guards have put enough distance between them and the room. Once he emerges, the two of them drop down from their own hiding places, and the three of them are free to return to their original task once more.

“All clear, the guards moved on. That was a close one,” Kuroo informs the rest of the crew over the earpiece. He can only imagine what it must have been like for them in the van, listening in to what was going on but unable to really help. “We’re back to getting hold of the map now. Oikawa narrowed down the stack earlier, so we should be heading back soon.”

This time when they return to the stacks, their movements are laced with a little more urgency. That was an exceptionally close call, one that none of them want to risk happening again. Slipping back into the stack that Oikawa pointed out earlier, the three of them begin flipping through the folders to try and locate the specific map they’re after.

It’s Terushima who finds it, complaining loudly when he sees how simple and underwhelming it is. It’s a battered old thing, and from a quick glance, Kuroo is positive that it’s decades out of date. Still, he’s not about to question why Sugawara has asked for an old map out of all things. He’s just here to steal the damn thing, and the sooner they can return it to him and get the information about their own targets, the better. With deft, gloved hands, he accepts the folder from Terushima, and eases it into a small, soft case they’ve brought along for it.

“It’s just so _boring_ ,” Terushima continues to moan in a hushed voice, “I thought it was gonna be a hell of a lot more impressive since a _mobster_ was after it, you know?”

“Just be grateful we don’t have to worry about getting anything like a huge woodblock out of here and into that tunnel,” Kuroo retorts. The rush from their near encounter with the guards still has him on edge, his flight reflex strung high, but he feels a mild pang of relief when the case snaps shut. They still have to make their way safely back through the building and into the service tunnel, but they’ve achieved what is arguably the hardest part of the heist so far—getting hold of their target.

“Right, come on,” Kuroo says, “it’s time to get out of here before we have any more close calls like that. Saeko, start the van as soon as we hit the tunnel. I want us out of here _now_.”

With their target secured, the three of them waste no time in retracing their earlier steps back down to the lower levels so they can slip back out through the service tunnel once more. They hear several more guards patrolling in the nearby hallways as they head down, but thankfully manage to avoid running into any of them.

Still, Kuroo feels as if he can’t properly breathe until the three of them are safely in the back of the van and the National Diet Library has completely vanished from the rearview mirror.

 

*

 

The next morning comes around quickly, and Kuroo finds himself boarding the train to Roppongi in the midst of rush hour. It’s only him heading to the Grand Hyatt to meet with Sugawara this time, with the map they’d managed to retrieve safely stored in a black, nondescript briefcase.

The heist last night had been a series of close calls, and even though they managed to pull it off, part of Kuroo wishes he’d never agreed to the job in the first place. His crew all knew the risks when they became thieves, long before they began working for him; none of them are stupid enough to think that stealing isn’t a dangerous way to spend their nights, but it’s the first time any of them have been that close to being caught. Kuroo knows that the heist had thrown them all, even if others had proved better at containing their apprehension. Ennoshita, in particular, had looked especially shaken when he’d parted ways with the rest of the crew at their little hideaway after the heist.

Just like his previous visit, Kuroo doesn’t stop at the front desk when he enters the Grand Hyatt hotel, but he doesn’t head to the bar either. Instead, he catches an elevator straight up to Sugawara’s suite. The yakuza looks far more put together than Kuroo feels, answering the door with a wide smile that completely contrasts with the hard slap on the back that he greets Kuroo with.

“You _do_ work fast,” Sugawara comments cheerily as he leads Kuroo into the main room, “the last contact I used for something like this took almost six months.”

The two of them settle on the low sofas in the main room. Once again, all of the curtains have been pulled back, but the view is completely different than it was before. Daylight streams into the suite now instead of the glow of the night. Roppongi and the rest of Minato-ku sprawls out for miles behind the tall glass of each window pane.

“I wanted to get this job over with quickly. Breaking into a government library is a bit different than my usual targets. I expected that whatever you asked for in return for the information wasn’t going to be easy, but this _favour_ was something else,” Kuroo says, sliding the briefcase across the table for Sugawara to take. “Why do you even want an old map like that, though? Half the streets on it don’t even exist anymore after the Kantō earthquake.”

“Do you really want to know the answer to that?” Sugawara retorts with a laugh as he snaps open the case to check its contents. “The Boss requested that I acquire it for him, but unless you’re planning on joining the syndicate, I can’t say—”

“Not a chance,” Kuroo quickly cuts in to reply.

Sugawara’s lips twitch.

“Well, a favour for a favour,” he says breezily as he stands to set the briefcase to one side. He vanishes into another room for a moment, and when he returns, it’s with a padded envelope. Kuroo accepts it warily when he recognises the Karasuno-kai syndicate _monshō_ stamped in the centre. It’s a simple design, devoid of any colour and depicting a stark black crow in mid flight, but a striking crest all the same. “That’s the list of all the remaining pieces of Nekomata's collection, _and_ their locations.”

The implication of Sugawara’s words doesn’t sink in at first; he’s too busy appraising the syndicate crest for them to register. When they finally click, Kuroo almost does a double take.

“Wait, wait, wait— you’re telling me you managed to find _all_ of them?” he exclaims. “Who did you have to bribe to get this list?”

His own attempts to track down all the various pieces of Nekomata’s former collection had proven hard, and often fruitless. The woodblock had been the last solid piece he’d managed to find, and he’d been unearthing nothing but dead ends in trying to find out where the remaining pieces had ended up. The fact that Sugawara had not only found them all, but so _quickly_ , is just another hint at just how much power the Karasuno-kai really commands.

“A good informant never reveals his sources, Kuroo. Besides, now you’re starting to sound like your friend. Oikawa, wasn’t it? He certainly had a lot to say on my _methods_ ,” Sugawara admonishes him. “Who said I had to bribe anybody?”

Kuroo frowns slightly. Sugawara has always been like this, prodding and teasing, but not to try and elicit an immediate response. His approach is like a slow puncture, eating away at you until, hours later, the sharp reality of just what he’d really meant crashes down over you.

“I broke into a government facility for you, Sugawara. Just last night, in fact,” Kuroo responds, arching an eyebrow, “so you can’t _really_ expect me to believe that the Karasuno-kai don’t ever break the law to get what they want.”

“I’m not saying _that_ ,” Sugawara laughs, “but the Karasuno-kai has a strict code of honour too. Ukai is very insistent that everyone follows that. So I can assure you that no one was harmed, extorted _or_ threatened gathering that intel. One of my subordinates is on… _good terms_ with a member of the Yachi family, who keep charge of museum curations on a national scale. I already had this prepared when you called.” 

Kuroo huffs out a short laugh of his own in reply.

“You didn’t feel like mentioning that _before_ I broke into a highly classified government building and stole something for you?”

“Of course not,” Sugawara answers wryly, unashamed in his honesty. “I needed you to agree to the Diet Library heist. If you knew I already had the information, would you have agreed to pay such a high price for it?”

“You’re something else, Sugawara,” is all that Kuroo says in response. Shaking his head, he pushes himself up from the sofa. “It’s a wonder Ukai doesn’t just hand the reins over to you and retire already.”

“Never say never,” Sugawara laughs as he stands too, accompanying Kuroo back through the main room of the suite and into the entryway. “I _have_ been eyeing up the Presidential suite for a while now.”

This is only their third real interaction, not counting the handful of phone calls they’ve shared, and Kuroo is still hyper aware of the type of life that Sugawara leads, but he feels more at ease around him. He doubts that they’ll ever be _friends,_ but Sugawara doesn’t seem quite so fake as Kuroo once assumed he was. He seems a little more human, and it’s enough that Kuroo believes that he can manage to stay on good terms with the yakuza.

“Kuroo—”

At the sound of his name, Kuroo pauses in slipping on his second shoe. He arches an eyebrow in question and turns to face Sugawara, who is hovering in the wide, airy hallway.

“Think carefully before you open that envelope,” Sugawara says after a moment. There’s an unusually pensive expression resting on his face, and what almost looks like concern tucked into the tightness of his jaw. “Just because you have that list, you don’t need to go rushing into anything. Think carefully if this is what you want to do, and watch your back.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kuroo asks with a frown. He can’t quite decipher if that’s supposed to be a thinly veiled threat or a warning. With Sugawara, he never quite knows.

“Nothing,” Sugawara answers simply; but the word is loaded. Kuroo knows there’s more to it than that, more that Sugawara isn’t saying. “I’m just giving you some advice. The Nekomata scandal was shady business back then, and it’s shady business today. Anything related to it is going to be risky. If you keep overturning rocks, you never know what kind of nasty things you might find under some of them.”

The words linger in Kuroo’s head for a long time after he’s left the hotel.

He’d started all of this— _become a thief_ —to try and put things back the way they should be. He’d only wanted to help Nekomata by returning what had been taken from him, but it seems as if he’s gotten himself tangled up in something far bigger than he’d ever realised.

“Fuck,” Kuroo curses softly under his breath. It's a rare thing for him to swear, but the stress of this situation has started to really sink in.

The subway rattles on back towards Nakano-ku, where home awaits. Kenma will probably be there when he gets back, lounging on the futon with a mug of tea after letting himself into the apartment with his spare key; but even the thought of curling up for an early night with his boyfriend isn’t enough for Kuroo to shake the tendrils of worry taking root.

Normally, Kuroo would turn to Kenma in a situation like this. They’ve known each other since they were both small and have been each other's support long before they started dating; but Kuroo doesn’t want to worry Kenma about this, not yet. Until he knows for sure what Sugawara’s warning meant, his fears could easily prove to be unfounded.

As the train pulls away from another station, Kuroo pulls out his phone to make a call. He might not want to bring this up with Kenma right now, but he knows someone else he can confide in, someone who might even be able to help him understand Sugawara’s cryptic words.

 _If you keep overturning rocks, you never know what nasty things you might find_.


	4. Chapter 4

The journey to his grandfather’s house isn’t as long as it used to be when Kuroo was a child, but with a total of an hour and a half travel time from his apartment to Chūō-ku in Chiba, it’s a trip he can only really afford to make on his days off. Today is one of those, and he’s fortunately free from planning their next heist and his own studies for upcoming qualifications so he can make time for a visit.

Kuroo transfers onto the Keiyō line at Tokyo Station, thankful that most of the rush seems to be getting _off_ the train at that stop and not joining him on the commute out of the city. Sugawara’s warning has been plaguing him since he left Roppongi last night. He’s hoping that talking with his grandfather, Susumu, about it will help to settle his mind. Kuroo has always been close to his grandfather, and he’s one of the most important influences in Kuroo’s life. Susumu has been aware of Kuroo’s double life as a phantom thief almost from the very beginning, although he had been less than pleased about it when he first found out.

It’s mild when the train eventually pulls into Soga Station, even despite the fact that it’s well before noon. There’s still a thin covering of cloud, which makes it a pleasant kind of warmth as Kuroo begins the walk towards his grandfather’s house near the beach. He’s lived in the same place for as long as Kuroo can remember, even after Kuroo’s grandmother died when he was still small. He can easily remember trips down to the beach, and his mother cooking them all fresh mackerel pike that the fishermen had caught that day for dinner. There’s always been something a little nostalgic about visiting his grandfather.

The house looks exactly the same as it always has as Kuroo approaches down the street after half an hour or so, with its wonky front roof tiles and slightly overgrown garden. He slips up the short path to the front door, and wastes no time in knocking. His grandfather would probably have no trouble with him barging in, but there’s no guarantee Susumu is even home at the moment. On the phone last night, he’d told Kuroo he was more than welcome to come over, but that he had to run some errands in the morning. Fortunately, it’s only a few seconds later that the door swings open, although the face that answers is not that of his grandfather’s.

It’s a familiar one all the same.

The man’s hair is light, blondish-grey, and his face is lined with soft wrinkles. When he recognises Kuroo, the man grins so widely that his eyes close.

“Nekomata-san?” Kuroo finds himself grinning too. Nekomata might as well be another grandfather to him at this point. He’s been friends with Kuroo’s real grandfather for years, long before Kuroo was even born, and so he’s always been something of a constant in Kuroo’s life.

“I didn’t realise you were going to be visiting,” Kuroo says.

Nekomata replies with a throaty laugh. His grin fades into a warm smile, and he finally fixes Kuroo with a long, appraising look. His face might well be cushioned by years of laughter and wrinkles, but those eyes are as sharp as ever. If Nekomata didn’t already know he was a thief, Kuroo would be worried he’d spill the beans in mere seconds under that gaze. “Someone needs to keep you on your toes, we can’t have you getting complacent now, can we? Anyway, come on already, your old geezer refused to start making the hot pot until you arrived, and I’m _starving_.”

Kuroo laughs, and Nekomata steps aside to let him in.

 

*

 

“Tetsurou,” Susumu remarks, “you’ve got that look on your face again.”

They’ve all settled into the main room after they’ve eaten, with the dishes stacked beside the sink to deal with later. His grandfather insisted that he’d sort them after his guests had left, but Kuroo has already made plans to wash them before he goes.

“What look?” Kuroo asks, a little sullenly. He’s slumped back against the tatami mats with his arm thrown over his eyes. Meeting with his grandfather and Nekomata, has done nothing to clear the worry that had settled over him since his conversation with Sugawara the day before. If anything, being so close to them only reminds him of the vague warning about the old Nekomata case more, causing his thoughts to spiral deeper and deeper as he tries to puzzle out exactly what Sugawara meant.

“That look when you’re thinking about something too hard,” his grandfather answers, letting out a content sigh as he settles back under the kotatsu again with a fresh pot of green tea. There’s nothing better than warmth and tea for soothing the dull, but near constant ache in his knees and back that seems to bother him these days. “What’s going on inside that head of yours?”

“Nothing,” Kuroo replies, sitting up at last. The sigh that slips out gives away his lie. “It’s just… something’s been weighing on my mind.”

“A problem shared is a problem halved,” Nekomata prompts this time, peering over the rim of his steaming tea cup with narrow, cat-like eyes. It’s a sharp, penetrating gaze, and Kuroo knows he’s lost the fight to keep his worries a secret the second he meets it.

“Someone warned me against carrying on... with recovering your art collection, I mean,” he admits, a little warily. He’s not sure how they’ll take the news that there might be more danger on the way if he keeps stealing, or that it might involve whoever ruined both of their lives all those years ago.

“People do tend not to encourage art theft, Tetsurou,” Nekomata comments. From the hint of laughter laced in his reply, he isn’t taking Kuroo’s dour mood seriously.

Kuroo groans, “No, no, it’s… I know that. It’s not like it was a police officer or anything. The guy who warned me was—”

He breaks off with a cough, struck with the sudden realisation that admitting he’s been dealing with a yakuza member isn’t a good idea. Knowing his grandson has been dealing with mobsters certainly isn’t going to make Susumu any more accepting of life as a phantom thief.

“—another thief,” he finishes lamely.

“Maybe he’s trying to get you to back off because he wants to steal the same things?” Susumu suggests, to which Kuroo shakes his head. It’s a good idea, and one he considered himself until he realised that Sugawara never would have given him the list if he’d planned to obtain any of the pieces of art himself.

“No, it’s nothing like that. This guy mentioned…” Kuroo swallows; the topic he’s about to broach has always been something of a sore subject, one that he never likes bringing up unless he absolutely must. “He mentioned your trial to me, about how it was really shady, so now… now I can’t help but think that maybe this has something to do with whoever set you both up in the first place.”

He takes a quick glance at Nekomata and his grandfather to try and gauge their expressions before he continues, but both of their faces are quietly blank.

“Like, what if that person has put two and two together and realised that I’m stealing back all of your collection? What if that’s why my contact told me to be careful?” Kuroo gushes. “Whoever set you up might think I’m trying to get your case re-opened, or maybe they think I might be able to expose them if I keep stealing back your things and they’ll do something drastic to stop me if I don’t give up, I don’t know. I just don’t see why else someone would warn me not to keep going.”

It seems that now he’s started to put his worries and his thoughts into words, he can’t stop. It’s a strangely relieving feeling, like there’s a pressure being lifted from his shoulders as the words spill out. It’s been building almost unbearably since yesterday, especially since he hadn’t even been able to bring himself to confide in Kenma this time.  

Susumu and Nekomata have been quiet since he started to speak, though Kuroo isn’t certain whether that’s to allow him to finish or because they’re just as unsettled at the mention of the scandal they were caught up in as Kuroo has been.

“I mean… I do want to make things right, that’s why I started stealing for you. If there was a chance to catch whoever cost you everything and clear your names, then I think I’d take it but… if the person behind it all is dangerous enough that I need warning to back off…” Kuroo sighs, staring down into his green tea, “I don’t know if I’m ready for that. I don’t know if I can ask my crew to sign on for that... can I?”

His grandfather doesn’t reply. Nekomata takes a long sip from the steaming cup in his hands instead. Neither answer is one that Kuroo wants to hear, and all three of them know it.

  


*

 

It’s dark by the time that Kuroo bids goodbye to Nekomata and Susumu, following the glow of the streetlamps all the way back to the station. He’s fortunate enough to have just missed the early evening rush as he boards the Keiyō line back to Tokyo station, and settles into a seat at the end of the carriage.

He feels lighter after confessing his concerns to Nekomata and his grandfather, and having them give their own opinions on what course of action to take next, but it’s not enough to completely quiet his mind. Sugawara’s warning still echoes in his head, and he can’t help but convince himself more and more unshakingly that whoever Nekomata had been chasing all those years ago—the villain who had set them up—is about to emerge from the shadows again. If that’s the case, then Kuroo knows this is the best chance he’ll ever have to set things right.

By the time the train is beginning to slip into the rural stretch, Kuroo has decided he’s not going to give up. He wants to push this as far as he can, and to do that, he’ll need all the help he can get. Before anything though, that means he needs to tell his crew the truth. He won’t force them down a path riddled with danger. If they help him with this, he wants it to be their choice.

As the train rattles away from Chiba, Kuroo loses himself in staring at the fading city lights.

 

*

 

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay, Boss?” Terushima questions with a breathy, half laugh. His expression is nothing short of bemused, as if he’s waiting for Kuroo to burst out with a punchline any second now. “I mean, I’m not saying you aren’t kind of an old man at times, but you’re not usually _this_ serious either, you know?”

“ _Oi_ ...” Kuroo huffs, pushing past the brief tick of annoyance, “just because I asked to talk to you all about something doesn’t mean I’m _old_.”

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” Kai suggests, effectively cutting off any bickering before it begins. He’s as calm as ever, but his expression gives away that he’s a little dubious about what exactly Kuroo needs to tell them. They’ve known each other long enough that Kai is more than aware that with Kuroo it could easily be something important or something completely ridiculous.

Kuroo had sent them all a message late last night after returning from his grandfather’s in Chiba, saying that he needed to talk to them all about something important. Despite the short notice, he’s pleased to find that everyone had been free to meet at the _Crow’s Nest_ tonight. They’ve all squeezed into a booth near the back of the bar, with a round of drinks already scattered across the table.

At Kai’s suggestion, Kuroo nods and takes a few moments to collect his thoughts. His crew, thankfully, fall quiet as they wait for him to speak. It’s not as though telling them about why he became a thief is something to be ashamed of, every one of the people sat around him has their own reasons for choosing this life after all, but he’s extremely nervous for what he must ask them to do.

Sugawara’s words still ring clear as day in his mind, and that vague threat of danger has been looming over him since that last meeting with the yakuza. Kuroo doesn’t want to drag his crew into any shadows that might await him as he tries to uncover the truth, and the villain at the heart of it all, but he knows he doesn’t have much choice. This is a battle he can’t fight on his own, and he knows that with this team around him, he could finally set things right for Nekomata and his grandfather.

Once he’s sure the nerves in his stomach aren’t going to bring his lunch back up, he begins, “I need to tell you all why I first became a thief. I need you to have the full story before I ask you to help me from here on out.”

From the corner of his eye, Kuroo notices Komi and Terushima perk up eagerly; even Oikawa seems to be sitting a little straighter across the table than he was before. Honestly, he isn’t surprised by their reactions. They’ve been a full crew for several months, and he’s known Oikawa and Kai for just shy of a year, but Kuroo has never told them the story that led to his becoming a thief before, nor explained how he chooses his targets. It’s not that he’s embarrassed about it, it’s always just seemed too heavy and intimate of a story to reveal.

“My grandfather used to work under a man called Nekomata in the Ministry of Finance. I think I was about five when it all went bad, but… Nekomata had found evidence that someone in the Ministry was blackmailing a member of the Diet. He and my grandfather were close to uncovering who was behind it when someone set them both up, obviously to try and derail their investigation,” Kuroo explains. Even now, the anger he feels on his grandfather’s behalf tastes sour like wine on his tongue. “They accused Nekomata of siphoning funds from the budget, and my grandfather of falsifying records to conceal the scheme and earn a cut of the stolen funds. They even planted false bank statements from an overseas account in Nekomata’s name in his office.”

Nekomata had been the Director-General of the Budget Bureau at the time, the department in charge of drawing up the national budget and granting funds to other government ministries, and so the allegations against him had been alarming and ultimately catastrophic. His claims that someone had been blackmailing a Diet member were investigated, but quickly dismissed; apparently all of the Diet members had denied being blackmailed. 

Nekomata was convinced that the blackmailer had gotten to whichever Diet member was being blackmailed to keep them quiet, or otherwise paid off the police department investigating his limited evidence, but there was little he could do. His reputation within the Ministry, as well as a top legal team from the Fukurodani Group, had managed to ensure that both he and Susumu avoided any time in prison, but their names had been forever sullied. They both lost their jobs, and all of Nekomata’s assets were seized in order to offset the money he’d supposedly stolen. One of these assets had been his private art collection, of which every single piece had been sold off to various museums and dealers.

The press storm following the _Nekomata Scandal_ , as it had been dubbed by the media, had been manic. Kuroo had only been small when it had happened, but he vaguely remembers a time when he was still in elementary school that his mother wouldn’t let him visit his grandfather because of the news teams that had seemed to permanently set up camp outside of his home.

“Nekomata was convinced that whoever had been blackmailing the Diet member was obviously behind the set up, and he managed to get some people pretty high up in his pocket too, because the investigation into Nekomata’s claims fell flat,” Kuroo continues bitterly, “so he and my grandfather ended up losing their jobs, their assets, _everything_.”

Kenma has heard this all before, but the expressions on everyone else’s faces are a complete spectrum. If it had been any other time, any other topic, Kuroo might have laughed. Saeko and Komi are gaping, eyes wide and mouths open as they take in his words. Fukunaga’s face seems as passive as usual, but the corners of his lips are downturned in concern. Kai is frowning deeply, his thick eyebrows almost meeting, and Terushima looks just seconds away from charging off to fight the entire Ministry of Finance by himself. Oikawa is harder to read; there’s a smile on his face, but it’s tight and phony and not at all filled with his usual cheer.

“When I found out about this, I was… I don’t know… I wanted to make it better somehow,” Kuroo sighs. It had been a hard thing to wrap his head around, and if not for Kenma, he’s not sure he would have worked through the idea so quickly. “So I decided that even if I couldn’t turn back the clock, I could at least give Nekomata something back. He took so much pride in his art collection, what if I could give that back to him, you know? It… was kind of bad logic, looking at it now, but I don’t regret becoming a thief for him. He worked damn hard to collect it all, and I wasn’t going to let someone take that away from him.”

Oikawa lets out a hum of surprise, “So, every piece we’ve stolen has been Nekomata’s, then?”

Kuroo nods.

“Well, that explains why our heists were always so far apart,” Oikawa comments after a beat. “I could never work out why you never chose any of our suggestions or why it took so long to just _pick_ a target, but now I know you weren’t just stealing any old thing… it makes sense.”

“Yeah, and when I couldn’t track down the rest—”

“You went to Sugawara,” Kai finishes, to which Kuroo nods again.

“But… we turned a profit on our heists, didn’t we?” Saeko cuts in, swirling her drink around in her glass with a straw. “If you were returning these pieces to your old man and grandpa and _not_ fencing them, how did you manage to give us a cut each time?”

“Ah, well…” Kuroo says, a little embarrassed at being caught out. “Before my first big heist, I did a few… trial runs. I only stole a few things from small places out of the city but selling them was enough to leave me with a bit of a cache of savings. I… didn’t really need the money, my internship pays well so I’ve been paying you a cut of those savings each time we pull off a heist.”

Silence falls again while each of them processes Kuroo’s story and his confession regarding where their money had come from. After a moment, Ennoshita is the one to break the ice.

“I’m pretty sure we’re all satisfied to finally hear how you became a thief, but I don’t really understand why you’re making it into this serious thing,” he admits. “I mean, we all have our own motivations too. It doesn’t make the heists any different just because we know your reason for stealing, does it?”

It’s at times like this that Kuroo is surprised by how mature Ennoshita can be. It’s not that he’s the boisterous sort, but more that he’s usually quiet and reserved. He’s bolder than Fukunaga or Kenma can be, but he certainly isn’t the sort to attract the kind of flashy attention that Komi, Terushima or Saeko do. As a thief, it’s the perfect quality to have, but Kuroo realises a little guiltily that there are times he tends to overlook just what Ennoshita is capable of.

“No, but I’m not telling you for that reason,” Kuroo answers, “I needed you all to know the full story because I’m going to give you an important choice to make.”

“Because _that_ doesn’t sound scary at all,” Komi cuts in, rolling his eyes. “Can you just skip the middle bit and tell us what’s going on already, Kuroo?”

Kenma nudges his foot against Kuroo’s in a soft, unacknowledged show of support. It’s not as if Kuroo expects his crew to suddenly go running out into the street after he tells them what’s been on his mind, but there’s a part of him that worries none of them will want to stay and help him.

“Alright, alright, here’s the thing…” Kuroo’s voice is thankfully steady, but it sounds more confident than he feels. “When I delivered Sugawara the map, he warned me not to push my luck, that if I kept on stealing, I might uncover something nasty. I think… I think he said that because there’s a chance if I keep stealing back Nekomata’s collection, I might encounter whoever set him and my grandfather up.”

It’s the only reason he can think of for Sugawara to warn him to be cautious. Kuroo doesn’t believe that Sugawara knows who was behind the set up; the yakuza is many things, he’s got blood on his hands and an iron fist, but he’s not unnecessarily cruel and Kuroo is sure that Sugawara would have told him if he’d known the identity of the blackmailer.

“Potentially going up against someone from the Ministry of Finance is going to be dangerous, Sugawara is right. But it might also be the best chance I have to find out who the _bastard_ is, and maybe do what Nekomata couldn’t, and take him down.” Kuroo sighs. “I’m not going to make you help me with this. I’m not even going to _ask_ you to. Chances are, whoever is behind this whole thing is big. They’ve got the money and power to influence the police, blackmail a Diet member and set up a high ranking member of the most powerful government ministry… and that’s just the crimes I know of. I want you to choose to stay, if that’s what you _want_ to do.”

A beat of silence rests heavily over the table, dulled only by the sound of the jazz band playing and the other patrons in the bar. It’s a quiet night for the _Crow’s Nest_ , but still full enough that they don’t need to worry about their conversation being overheard.

“So...” Terushima drawls, slouching back in his chair, “you’re basically saying that we’re going to be fucking with the big boys if we stick with you?”

“Not that I’d put it that way… but yes,” Kuroo grimaces, and drags a hand through his hair. It flutters slightly as his fingers move through it, but settles back into the same old disarray when he drops his hand again. “So if any of you want out, say so now. No harm, no foul. We part as friends, I’ll understand.”

The atmosphere is tense. The silences that fall seem heavier than usual, and no one seems to want to be the first to break them.

This time, Fukunaga is the first to crack the ice that’s frozen them solid, replying with a quiet but firm, “I’ll help.”

Those two small words seem to be all the others need to make their decisions. Kenma’s hand reaching for his under the table and the squeeze of his fingers are all that Kuroo needs to know that Kenma is standing by him.

“I’m with you,” Kai says, and Komi and Terushima are quick to agree to stay for the long haul too.

“Besides,” Terushima adds with a laugh, “if I left now, I’d _never_ get to use my grappling hook. That was expensive as fuck, like hell I’m passing up the chance to actually use it!”

Kuroo’s eyes scan around the table, seeking answers from those who have yet to speak. Oikawa is grinning when he meets Kuroo’s gaze, and there’s the same gleam of excitement in his eyes that Kuroo saw the first time they met. He’d broken into Oikawa’s family estate to steal one of the vases in the dining room, and Oikawa certainly hadn’t been wary about confronting him. He'd charged in head first, and it looks as if he's about to do the same now.

“Do you really need to ask?” Oikawa snorts. “I’m never going to turn down the chance to go toe-to-toe with the Ministry of Finance. Of course I’m in.”

Ennoshita is quiet, and even when Kuroo’s gaze falls on him, he doesn’t speak. Kuroo can’t quite read the expression on his face as he stares hard down at the table, but he doesn’t prompt or push. He knows he’s asking something huge from his crew, and he doesn’t want to force them into anything.

“I… I’m _sorry,_ ” Ennoshita eventually whispers. His voice is oozing with guilt, and Kuroo can already tell what his answer is going to be even before he finishes it. “That’s… too much.”

“It’s alright,” Kuroo replies just as quietly, and honestly, it is. He’s not going to deny that he’s not upset that Ennoshita won’t be standing beside them anymore or giving them cutting movie reviews right in the middle of their heists, but he respects the decision that he’s made. After all, Ennoshita joined the crew to help fund his cinematography degree at university, not to end up trying to expose a mysterious, and potentially dangerous, blackmailer in the Ministry of Finance.

No one seems to know what to say in response, and even Ennoshita seems a little torn on exactly what he’s supposed to do now.

In the end, Ennoshita himself is the one to bring the stilted moment to a close. He shuffles himself out from the booth, hovering by the edge of the table with his jacket stowed over his arm for a moment. He seems to be battling with himself, trying to decide exactly how to say goodbye.

“I just want to say… these past few months…” Ennoshita begins, but the words seem to dry up on the end of his tongue, and his voice quickly filters out. He doesn’t want to run away, he certainly doesn’t want this to mean the end of his friendship with any of them, but he knows that what Kuroo is asking from them is too intense for him to face.

“It’s been fun,” he eventually manages to conclude, “and… I guess I’ll be here if any of you want catch up with a drink some time.”

Ennoshita doesn’t linger for much longer after that, excusing himself properly and heading towards the exit. A hush has fallen over the booth at his departure; but unlike the usual, comfortable silences that occur from time to time, this one is drenched with sourness. The empty seat he’s left behind feels like a gulf they’ll never quite fill.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's time for a pov switcheroo........ honestly i just had a blast with this chapter, iwa is always really fun for me to write & getting to introduce new characters aND write his interactions w kindaichi esp was great

**_CAT BURGLARS STRIKE AGAIN! NATIONAL DIET LIBRARY_ **

**_BREAK-IN GIVES POLICE “PAWS” FOR THOUGHT._ **

 

Since the news broke early this morning, the Criminal Investigation Bureau has been a hive of activity. The atmosphere that lingers over the second division police squad in particular is something akin panic as officers flit here, there and everywhere with stacks of case files as anonymous tips flood in. Iwaizumi slips through it all, heading from his office towards the coffee machine for his third cup of the morning. They’re his officers technically, he outranks them all, but until he gets more information or his marching orders from above, he doesn’t have any real direction to point them in.

He can already tell it’s going to be an awful day, and when the door to their department slams open to reveal the Superintendent-General, Junichi, his fears are confirmed. He’s suddenly thankful for the fresh cup of coffee; it’s cheap and it tastes terrible, but he needs all the help he can get to make it through to clocking out time.

As soon as they realise who’s just arrived, the second division officers are quick to gather in the main room, all of them unnaturally quiet. Iwaizumi is no different, and he moves from the kitchenette to perch on the edge of Kunimi and Kindaichi’s shared desk. The atmosphere has slipped from panicked to tense, and the previous humdrum of noise is stilled and silent.

“The news this morning is a shitstorm, and they’re out for blood. _Yours._ ” Junichi begins, and though he hasn’t raised his voice, the tone of his words is chilling. He cuts an intimidating figure at the head of the room, tall and well-built even as he slips past middle-age. His eyebrows are furrowed, frowning deeply as he fixes each officer with a long, hard look.

“This is your case, and they want someone to hold accountable for that major _fuck up_ last night.” He pauses to gesture at the television on the wall behind him. It’s on mute, but the news channel is clearly reporting on the National Diet Library theft. “And honestly, I’m tempted to throw you all to the wolves at this point. Those bastards shouldn’t still be walking around free out there.”

The Superintendent-General has never been the sort to sugarcoat anything, and most of the time, it’s a trait that Iwaizumi has appreciated. Iwaizumi isn’t incapable of social interaction by any means, but he’s always found it easier to deal with people who mean what they say and he’s always been a ' _what you see is what you get'_ type of person himself.

Iwaizumi sees Kindaichi flinch in the corner of his eye, and he makes a note to talk to him later. Even he’s felt the harsh sting of Junichi’s words today, and it’s not as if it’s the rookie’s fault that they’ve made no progress. The last thing that he needs is his junior officers getting discouraged, not when they’ve been working their asses off to close this case.

“It’s clear this division, as a team, is not working, so it’s time for a different approach. I’m ordering the formation of a specialist task force,” Junichi barks. “Iwaizumi—”

“Here, sir.” Iwaizumi snaps to attention at the sound of his name, pushing away from the desk to stand straight as his superior’s gaze falls onto him. The sudden movement spills some of his coffee over the rim of his mug, but he tries to ignore the stinging burn from where some of it has splashed over his leg and seeped through his slacks.

“You’ll take point. Who you want with you on this is your call; any of the Bureau staff are available for you, not just this division. Don’t treat the decision lightly; if you don’t get results, it’s on your head.” Junichi’s tone is commanding, unyielding and stern as he speaks, “Two PSIA agents will be coming in to consult with you on this. They have reason to believe these bastards are linked with a smuggling ring they’ve been tracking. Whatever their reason, they have better resources than we do. Make good use of them, play your cards right, and this will be a big step up the ladder for you. Understood?”

“I... yes, sir,” Iwaizumi replies, a little unsteadily. The rest of his squad uncertainly offer a round of applause, almost as if they’re not entirely sure whether this is a promotion opportunity or a punishment. Iwaizumi isn’t sure if he knows either, and is thankful for the appearance of a girl with russet hair in the doorway to shift the focus away from him.

“Sir, Washijo Tanji is here to see you. He’s waiting in your office,” she announces, appearing to have no qualms at all about cutting across and interrupting the briefing. Iwaizumi briefly muses that with that kind of authority, she’s wasted as Junichi’s PA.

“Thank you, Yukie. Tell him I’ll be there shortly,” Junichi sighs heavily, “and as for the rest of you, I expect reports on all of your other cases on my desk by the end of the day. Iwaizumi, I want a list of your chosen officers by tomorrow morning. Dismissed.”

With that, the Superintendent-General leaves just as swiftly as he arrived, striding back out of the doors after Yukie.

“Well then,” says Watari, the first to shatter the heavy silence that still hangs over the department, “good luck with that, Iwaizumi.”

“...yeah, thanks,” he replies.

Every pair of eyes has fallen to him now, and the coffee spilled on his slacks has turned cold against his skin. As he turns to head back towards his office, Iwaizumi knows that he really is going to need all the luck he can get to close this case.

 

*

 

It’s lunchtime before Iwaizumi sees anyone again, and the visitor comes in the form of Kindaichi. The rookie appears at his office door a little after one, and there’s a tray of coffee in one hand and what looks like a pair of homemade, wrapped bentos in the other.

“Are you busy, Iwaizumi-san?” Kindaichi asks, and even though they’ve been working together for months now since he first joined the second division squad, he still seems to fluster around Iwaizumi. “I’ve got a spare bento and I brought coffee. I thought... maybe you might want to take a break?”

“Sure,” Iwaizumi agrees easily. He’s been poring over files and case records of officers throughout the Bureau for hours trying to make his choices for the task force, and he’s more than ready to take a step back from it. He leans back into his chair to stretch his arms above his head, relishing in the relief it brings his stiff muscles.

Kindaichi slips through the door and settles himself in the chair in front of Iwaizumi’s desk. It takes him a bit of juggling to get everything down, but within minutes, they’re both able to break into their bentos.

“This looks amazing,” Iwaizumi grins. He isn’t sure who exactly has made these lunches, because they’re undeniably home-made, but they’re immaculate and look absolutely delicious.  “I really owe you one for this, Kindaichi. It definitely beats the conbini lunch I would have ended up with,”

With a mouthful of rice, Kindaichi can’t really reply, and simply smiles giddily back at him instead. There’s several grains stuck to his cheeks, puffy with food, and Iwaizumi bites back a laugh as he snaps apart his chopsticks to begin. They fall into an easy silence for a few minutes, enjoying their food until the worst of their hunger has been sated.

“Shit, it feels like I’ve been looking at personnel files for hours. I definitely needed this,” Iwaizumi groans, chewing on a mouthful of umeboshi onigiri, “Tendou, Tsukishima and Aone are all good candidates for this kind of thing, but fuck me, they’re gonna be a pain in the ass to wrangle together. Still, at least I know you’ll get your head down and work.”

“M-Me?” Kindaichi splutters, and for a brief moment he’s certain that his coffee is going to go shooting out of his nose. “What do you mean, sir?”

Iwaizumi looks briefly startled, which honestly doesn’t surprise Kindaichi given his near-death experience right opposite him. His forehead furrows as he passes Kindaichi a few tissues from his desk to mop up the coffee dripping down his chin.

“I mean with the task force,” Iwaizumi responds. He’s never seen himself as the best mentor, not even the best senpai in high school, but he’ll be damned before one of his officers doubts their ability; especially when he knows they have so much potential to succeed. “You’re a damn good officer, Kindaichi. It’s about time you got a chance to prove that. I want you with me on this.”

A moment pauses in which it seems Kindaichi is half expecting a punchline to come, but when the serious expression on Iwaizumi’s face doesn’t falter, he practically beams. “Th-Thank you so much, Iwaizumi-san! I won’t let you down!”

As Iwaizumi returns to his bento again, he can’t help but find that smile extremely contagious.

The rest of their lunch break passes comfortably, with the topic of the task force pushed to one side for now. With the knowledge that they’ll be living and breathing the case soon enough, Iwaizumi is more than glad to make the most of the calm before the storm.

 

*

 

Six in the morning comes far too soon, and not for the first time, Iwaizumi considers throwing his alarm bodily across the room. He never bothers to hit the snooze button, but he’s definitely not a morning person. He’s barely functioning before his first mug of coffee or tea, and it’s the thought of that first rush of caffeine and a hot shower that motivates him to drag himself from the tangle of bedsheets.

He’s sluggish as he fumbles his way through his apartment, managing to stab himself squarely in the hip as he walks straight into the corner of the kitchen counter on his way towards the bathroom. It doesn’t help that it feels like barely seconds have passed since he towed himself back from the office. Between finishing his review of the stack of personnel files after lunch and actually having to make the final decision on who was being recruited to the task force, it was well past the normal end of the day by the time Iwaizumi had gotten his report for the Superintendent-General’s finished. He’d been out like a light as soon as his head had hit the pillow.

He feels far more human after his shower, and has fully emerged from the cocoon of sleep by the time he’s downed his first mug of green tea. The rest of his morning routine runs smoothly, and Iwaizumi is out of the door by seven, as usual, without incurring any more injuries.

It’s a cool morning, but par for the course for this time of year as winter slips quietly into spring. The chill is almost welcome as Iwaizumi makes his way towards Sendagi station to catch the subway, certainly enough to blast the last remnants of sleep from him. Both the streets and the train he boards are quiet, but this is not unusual either. It’s actually part of why he leaves his apartment so early for work. It means he’s normally the first in his department to arrive at the office, but it also ensures that he misses the chaos of morning rush hour in Tokyo. It’s been years since Iwaizumi moved to the city, but he still struggles to adjust to how much _busier_ everything can be here compared to Miyagi.

There’s a familiar figure slumped on one of the benches in the locker room, switching his indoor shoes for a well-worn pair of sneakers, when Iwaizumi arrives. He’s quick to greet the other officer as he finds his own shoe locker. It’s been years since he and Hanamaki worked in the same department, but they still meet for dinner and drinks when their hectic schedules allow, and Iwaizumi considers him a friend.

“Been burning the candle at both ends again?”

“Something like that,” Hanamaki snorts as he continues to fumble with the laces of his shoes. The bags under his eyes are impossible to miss when he looks up with a crooked grin, stark like bruises. It’s obvious that Hanamaki is coming off one hellish night shift, and Iwaizumi doesn’t envy him at all.

“Tough case?” Iwaizumi prompts, stowing his shoes away.

“Yeah, the Karas—” Hanamaki’s reply is sharply interrupted by a long yawn that, for a moment, Iwaizumi half thinks is never going to end. “Shit, sorry, the Karasuno-kai have been expanding further into Roppongi. We think they're preparing for a changeover in command so Junichi has been piling on the pressure to crack down on them. It's been pretty much non-stop for the past week. I’m not sure I even remember what a bed looks like.”

“Sounds like hell,” Iwaizumi lets out a dry chuckle, leaning against the side of the lockers. For all that Hanamaki boasts about his impressive arrest record and frequently making the headlines, Iwaizumi knows that every single police officer in the Organized Crime Control Bureau works ridiculous hours on a regular basis. “That’s got to make it rough finding time with Matsukawa, huh?”

“You know what? Forget the bed, I’m not sure I even remember what _Mattsun_ looks like anymore,” Hanamaki responds with a strangled noise; half sigh, half groan. “He’s been putting in overtime at the fire department, and our schedules just haven’t been synching lately. When this case is over, I swear we’re not leaving the bedroom for a solid _week_.”

“That’s _real_ romantic,” Iwaizumi grunts, pushing himself up and away from the lockers. Hanamaki has always been open about his relationships, and never shy about discussing his sex life. By contrast, Iwaizumi has always been the opposite. He only hopes his awkwardness at Hanamaki’s brazen words doesn’t show as he turns towards the elevators at the end of the hall. “Anyway, I’d better get going. We’re about to be just as snowed under as you are, and I should get on top of it before another storm hits.”

“Just wait, Iwaizumi,” Hanamaki calls after him. Despite the fatigue, mischief rings in his words. “When you finally find that special someone, you’ll be just the same as Mattsun and I!”

“ _Catch_ _you later_ , Makki,” Iwaizumi responds pointedly, waving a hand over his shoulder but not turning back. He mentally thanks every deity he knows that Hanamaki isn’t aware he’s already found that someone. He knows that he’d never hear the end of it, even if he’s yet to actually deal with his feelings properly. Hanamaki takes enough pleasure teasing him as it is without more fuel to add to the fire.

According to the clock on that wall that greets him when he finally makes it up to his floor, Iwaizumi is still early, but for once, he’s not the first to arrive. The department is fuller than he ever remembers seeing it this early, but once the surprise wears off, he understands why. Scattered around the room are the officers he handpicked, officers that Superintendent-General Junichi obviously contacted after reading Iwaizumi’s report.

“Alright...good start,” he murmurs to himself.

Some of them he recognises from around the building, like the tall, aloof Tsukishima, who normally works in the First Division office around the corner and Kindaichi, who works underneath him already. The rest he knows only from their case files.

As he eyes Tendou grinning widely up at Aone, who has shown no visible reaction to anything as far as Iwaizumi can tell, he briefly questions whether he’s made the right call with them all. They’re all exceptional officers, but that means nothing if he can’t get them to work together.

 _Come on, Hajime,_ he scolds himself, _Junichi wouldn’t have chosen you if he didn’t think you could do this._ It’s not enough to entirely dispel his misgivings about this task force, but it’s enough to settle his nerves. They’re an eclectic bunch, that’s for sure, but he’d had a good feeling about all of them when he’d chosen them. His gut has never steered him wrong before.

“Oi, listen up.” There’s no sense in beating around the bush. All of the officers gathered are quick to give him their full attention when he speaks. “I chose you all because of your ability to think outside the box and to work _hard_. It’s my ass on the line if we don’t get results, and I’m not about to let that happen, so I expect each of you to throw yourself into this case like you’ve never done before. Those bastards have shown us up more than once, but that stops now. We’re the ones with the better team, and we’re going to bring them in. Understood?”

A chorus of affirmations circles the room.

“Alright, good. We’re going to be setting up in the conference room down the hall. Grab your files, notes, a cup of coffee, whatever, but make sure you’re there in five minutes for the first briefing. Dismissed.”

It’s not the first time that Iwaizumi has given orders, but it’s still a strange feeling seeing the other officers scatter at his words, gathering documents and notepads and computers. Everything seems to be going well so far, and he can only hope the good start to the day continues until the end. They’re halfway through relocating down the hall with Tendou complaining loudly about the quality of the coffee when Iwaizumi catches sight of two altogether unfamiliar figures approaching.

They’re both tall, and though one of them is considerably more built than the other, they both cut impressive images in sharp, pressed suits. He eyes the gun holsters on their belts a little warily. Iwaizumi carries one himself, it’s standard protocol for anyone working in the Criminal Investigation Bureau, but it’s always seemed more of a risk than a safety precaution to him. Fortunately, it’s not often that any of the Metropolitan Police are forced to use their firearms. The fact that these two men are carrying weapons narrows down their identity to some form of mid-to-high ranking law enforcement, but it doesn’t help him figure out why they’re seemingly making a beeline towards him.

“We’re looking for Inspector Iwaizumi?” the taller of the two says, but the way he phrases his words sounds more like a question than anything. A little guiltily, Iwaizumi can’t help but question exactly _how_ the man managed to become an officer with that kind of outrageous hair. It’s a shocking shade of grey, peppered with dark streaks where his roots have grown back in, and gelled to such crisp points that at least half a tub of gel must have been used.

“Uh, yeah... you’ve got him,” Iwaizumi replies, a beat too late. He mentally curses his slip, but reasons that anyone would be thrown running into a man looking like _that_ first thing in the morning. “I mean, I’m Iwaizumi. How can I help?”

“We’re from the Public Security Intelligence Agency. I’m Futakuchi, and this is my partner, Bokuto,” the other man answers, shaking his head to flick a tuft of caramel hair out of his face. He looks to be around a similar age to Kindaichi, perhaps a little older, but from the tone of his voice and the devil-may-care attitude he gives off, Iwaizumi can already tell he’s going to be a handful.

“Oh, shit, of course. You’re the agents working the smuggling ring case,” Iwaizumi recalls. In truth, he’d been so distracted by reviewing and selecting his own officers that the fact they were being assigned to the case too had completely slipped his mind. “Look, it’s not that I don’t appreciate the additional help, but I’m still not sure I follow how helping out on this case is going to get you guys your bust.”

At that, Bokuto laughs.

“Well, there’s more than one way to skin a cat, right?” he responds, grinning widely, “ _get it?_ Because this case is about _cat_ burglars?”

“Anyway...” Futakuchi interrupts, with such smoothness and such a straight face that it’s clear he’s had a lot of practice dealing with Bokuto, “we have a few sources suggesting that the two groups might be linked. The PSIA and the Superintendent-General decided a joint effort was the best approach. What is it they say? You _scratch_ our back, we’ll _scratch_ yours?”

Bokuto lets out a delighted guffaw, and this time, it’s Futakuchi’s turn to grin.

Iwaizumi sighs, resigning himself to the fact that with these two personalities added to the mix, things are definitely going to be interesting. Watari was right, he’s going to need to all the luck he can get.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which i introduce EVEN MORE characters to this beast of an au. anyways, sorry for any weird formatting things? whenever i post to ao3 it looks fine in the preview/chapter text window but seems to add extra spaces after italicized bits or at the end of dialogue like ( ,”) so y i k e s. i'm trying to catch them all but just a heads up if you spot one!

Ukai’s udon bar is always quietest at this time of day, just after noon when the lunchtime rush has already come and gone. It’s one hell of a place when it’s busy and the whole crew is here. Saeko’s laughter carries from one end of the counter all the way to the other. Oikawa loves the buzz of those nights, but it’s nice to have somewhere calm to get lunch with Iwaizumi today.

Kuroo had wanted to take some time to go over the information that Sugawara had given him, and so the whole crew has been granted some downtime before reconnaissance for their next heist begins. Oikawa is more than a little thankful that this break has managed to coincide with a few of Iwaizumi’s rare days off from the Criminal Investigation Bureau.

The two have known each other since middle school, when Iwaizumi had moved down from Sendai with his father after he’d accepted a promotion and transferred to Tokyo. Iwaizumi Hisashi had been an exceptional police officer, respected enough that his son had been granted a scholarship to the same prestigious school Oikawa attended that normally a police officer would have had no chance of affording. Oikawa had been quick to try and befriend Iwaizumi, though Iwaizumi certainly hadn’t made that an easy task. It had been a shaky start, but after the ice had melted, their friendship had only continued to grow stronger. It had survived fights in the playground and arguments over sports teams; even the devastating couple of years after Hisashi had been killed in the line of duty and Iwaizumi had withdrawn into himself in his grief.

Over a decade after their first meeting Oikawa still considers Iwaizumi to be his best friend, even if lately it seems as though life has been trying to interfere with that fact. He doesn’t work—nor does he particularly  _need_ to with his family behind him—but his days have been busy with planning heists and Iwaizumi has been completely entrenched at the Criminal Investigation Bureau. It’s been weeks since the two of them have been able to get together like this, and Oikawa says as much between bites of his lunch. He’s a little pouty, loudly complaining, “Iwa-chan, I thought you’d forgotten all about me! Didn’t you miss me _at all?_ ”

Iwaizumi merely hums around a mouthful of noodles in response. He can't remember the last time he managed to sit down for a proper meal like this, and he’ll be damned if he lets something as commonplace as Oikawa’s grousing interrupt that. With leads, theories and paperwork piling up from the Cat Burglars taskforce, most of his time has been spent in his office, where the nearest source of food is the little FamilyMart on the corner. Iwaizumi has never been the fussy sort when it comes to food—he’ll give most things a try once, and even suffer through badly cooked meals if there’s nothing else—but there’s only so many conbini dinners and canned coffee that one man can take.

“I’ve been busy with work, dumbass,” he replies after he’s swallowed. “You know full well that I’m heading up the Cat Burglars taskforce. Just because _you_ have a trust fund to fall back on and time to go out for lunch all the time doesn’t mean we all do.”

There’s no heat to Iwaizumi’s words, despite their bluntness. Besides, he’s well aware that Oikawa has a point; he’s been neglecting a lot of things outside of work with all of the hours he’s been putting into this task force. He’s always been a bit of a workaholic, but he knows this is taking it to a whole new level. His social life has certainly taken a hit, and Iwaizumi is struck with a sudden, sharp empathy for Hanamaki, who works these kinds of killer, all-hours cases on a regular basis.

 _It’s not even like you have any progress to show for it_ , his mind bitterly taunts.

“Look, Oikawa, when this case is over…” Iwaizumi says quietly, “I’ll take you to Palette Town again. You’ve been bugging me about it for months already so… let me make it up to you then, alright?”

As he trails off, he reaches for his drink in a bid to cover his embarrassment.

Open affection towards his friends and family has never been Iwaizumi’s strong suit. He cares for them, and cares _deeply_ , but his way of showing that comes through in the simple things; like lending them his umbrella when it rains or nagging at them to not skip their meals. His openness now is a testament to how much Oikawa honestly means to him. Iwaizumi only hopes that Oikawa won’t comment on the flush of colour in his cheeks. He'll blame it on the noodles if he does.

“Really?” Oikawa exclaims, his mood shifting from moping to jubilant in a heartbeat. He turns to face Iwaizumi so quickly he almost dislodges his own glasses from his nose. His grin is wide and toothy and _impossibly_ endearing. Iwaizumi feels his chest tighten just looking at it.

“You have to win me something from one of the claw machines or I’ll never forgive you!” Oikawa continues animatedly. “Takeru went with nii-chan last month and apparently there’s a machine there with moogle plushies. _Moogles_ , Iwa-chan!”

Snorting, Iwaizumi can’t help but laugh.

“Sure, whatever,” he replies, “once I catch these bastards, I’ll win you the biggest plushie there.”

Although laughter still clings to Iwaizumi’s response, it’s impossible to miss the determination and drive in his words. It’s enough to make the grin on Oikawa’s face falter slightly.

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around,” Oikawa says. His usual cheer feels a little bit forced as he attempts to brush past the wave of discomfort that threatens to rear above him. Sometimes, it’s all too easy to forget that Iwaizumi is leading the team of officers dedicated to catching him and the rest of the crew. It’s not normally a topic that comes up when they meet, and Oikawa has gotten used to living in blissful denial of the fact that Iwaizumi is, technically, against him.

When Iwaizumi had first been assigned to the task force, he’d been bursting with pride when he’d told Oikawa. Ever since Hisashi died, Iwaizumi had been striving to be the best police officer he could be. This case had seemed like the perfect chance to prove himself. He’d been nervous too, worried about taking on such a huge case with it all resting on his head, but Oikawa had been able to tell how much Iwaizumi was relishing the chance to step up.

If things were different, if Oikawa weren’t one of the very thieves that Iwaizumi remains so driven to arrest, Oikawa knows he’d be able to throw himself entirely behind his best friend. All he ever really feels when he thinks of Iwaizumi leading the task force is an unsettling flutter low in his belly and a bad taste on his tongue. Knowing how much Iwaizumi wants to close the case and arrest his crew makes it hard to celebrate with and encourage him. More than once, Oikawa has had to hold his tongue when Iwaizumi has spoken poorly of his crew; frankly, he thinks he deserves an award for not cracking under the pressure and admitting everything so far.

Iwaizumi turns his attention back to his bowl, gathering another mouthful of noodles with his chopsticks. Oikawa watches him from the corner of his eye. He wonders what would happen if Iwaizumi did know the truth. He wonders if he can keep on hiding the truth forever. He doesn’t want to lose Iwaizumi—not now, _not ever_ —but Oikawa can’t help but think that’s exactly what would happen if the secret came out. Iwaizumi has always seemed to see the world in black and white, while he himself moves in shades of grey.

A sigh threatens to slip out of him, and Oikawa promptly stops it by stuffing a pile of shredded cabbage into his mouth. His puffy cheeks make Iwaizumi snort-laugh. It’s adorable frankly, but it only makes the guilt creeping like wildflowers under Oikawa’s ribs a little more aching.

 

*****

 

It’s been a full two weeks since the crew managed to pull off the National Diet library heist, and they’re still enjoying their break while Kuroo sorts through their next targets. Tonight, they’ve all gathered at the _Crow’s Nest_ to celebrate Terushima’s twentieth birthday.

Predictably, he’s already drunk.

More than once they’ve had to stop him from approaching the girl in glasses who sits, as ever, at the end of the bar with a small glass of wine. Now that he’s finally able to legally drink, everyone has been alternating between buying his drinks all night. It’s something that he’s certainly made the most of, ordering the fanciest and most alcoholic cocktails on the menu.

Hinata has been in his element, relishing the challenge of making each order and decorating them with an almost obnoxious amount of sparklers, stirrers and little umbrellas. Kuroo is ninety percent certain that Hinata’s ability to make such complex cocktails—and make them _quickly_ —is the only reason he’s not been fired yet. It’s an observation that’s only confirmed in Kuroo’s mind when Komi cheerfully announces on one of his trips back from the bar that Hinata has managed to drop a full ice bucket directly onto Daichi’s foot.

The evening is still in mid swing when Kuroo first sees him.

He’s slipped back up to the bar to buy the next round of drinks for the crew—including an order of chūhai for Kenma and a sakura daiquiri for Terushima—when the man approaches him from across the club. He has a small build and thick, truffle coloured hair swept neatly to one side. There’s a sly smile spreading across his face as he settles in beside Kuroo at the bar.

“What are you doing here, Daishou?” Kuroo questions coolly. He’s still pleasantly tipsy, but the warm tingle from his earlier drinks has been tinged with tension at Daishou’s arrival. “This place isn’t exactly in your neck of the woods.”

He’s known Daishou for just shy of a year, almost since he first began his double life as a phantom thief. In all that time, the two of them have never seen eye to eye. At first, Kuroo had hoped they might. Daishou had been well known in select circles for leading a smuggling ring based in Yokohama, and Kuroo had approached him with the belief that they could work out some kind of partnership; that perhaps, in return for help in tracking down Nekomata’s former collection with Daishou’s connections, Kuroo could lend an additional hand procuring items on his heists. Any chance of that happening had swiftly gone sour after the two had met and Kuroo had discovered that they possessed drastically different morals. Daishou certainly wasn’t—and still _isn’t_ —above making threats, forging artwork or planting hefty bribes to get his way.

“Hm?” Daishou responds airily, as if he hasn’t even heard Kuroo speak.

It’s _infuriating_.

“No need to be so _suspicious_ , Kuroo. Mika and I were just passing through Ginza after dinner and thought we’d stop off for a little nightcap,” Daishou answers after Kuroo doesn’t respond. His tone is outwardly conversational, but Kuroo can hear the smarmy undertones as clear as day. “Running into you and your gaudy friends here is _purely_ coincidental.”

“Bullshit,” Kuroo snorts without missing a beat.

After he’s passed his order along to Daichi, Daishou laughs. “I see your manners are as impeccable as ever. Perhaps I just wanted to catch up, and see if the rumours were true.”

“Rumours?” Kuroo questions with a frown, “what rumours?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” Daishou says with a wave of his hand, “I just heard that you and I are apparently looking to _collect_ a few of the same pieces in future.”

It takes a moment for the meaning behind Daishou’s words to sink in.

“Oh,” Kuroo says. “I didn’t realise you actually bothered with the real thing these days. Last _I_ heard you’d bribed a fine arts student to forge the pieces you’re selling overseas.”

He’s got no interest in being subtle or polite, and their conversation is shrouded enough by the ambient noise of the bar that neither of them need to worry about being overheard. Daishou doesn’t reply, but his jaw tightens at the quiet accusation so Kuroo knows that he’s found a sore spot.

“How _is_ Kuguri, by the way?” Kuroo asks lightly, tacking it on as if it’s little more than an afterthought and not the calculated dig they both know it is. “His studies must be suffering if he has to balance them with you making him forge masterpieces. Poor kid. He’s not going to graduate at this rate.”

“That’s _none_ of your business,” Daishou hisses. He’s beginning to get flustered now; Kuroo can tell by the pinch of angry red in his cheeks. He can never seem to hold his tongue or his disdain around Daishou these days. He likes to think that he’s mature for age, adult enough that he can let most things slide right over his head, but Daishou proves time and time again to be an exception.

Mika arrives before either of them can say anything more, easily settling in against Daishou’s side. She’s just as pretty as Kuroo remembers, with a slender figure and soft, pin straight hair. She offers him a small, polite smile.

Kuroo is well aware that Mika’s arrival signals an end to their bickering. As much as he relishes each and every chance he gets to knock Daishou down a peg or two, he’s not about to drag Mika into it. He’s almost certain that she knows about Daishou’s smuggling ring— _how could she not?_ —but as far as Kuroo knows, she’s not actually _involved_ in any of its activities.

“A pleasure as always, Daishou,” he says in parting, collecting the drinks that Hinata has dropped off and turning away to head back towards the booth where the rest of the crew awaits.

“Don’t forget, Kuroo,” Daishou calls after him, “I’ll be seeing you again _very_ soon.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PRAISE EVERYTHING THIS CHAPTER IS FINALLY OVER 
> 
> i had so much trouble writing this one because i just wasn't satisfied with it at all but now it's finally done!!!! and we get a glimpse into the viper's nest this time around hoooo boy. huge thanks as always to benny for being the best beta and a real trooper in getting me through this chapter from hell.

Daishou Suguru hasn’t always been the head of an infamous international smuggling ring. He rules from a lofty height with a reputation that easily precedes him, but he’s fought tooth and nail to get there.

He’d barely been nineteen when he’d first gotten involved in the criminal underworld in Tokyo, fresh out of high school and having just failed his university entrance exams. Academics had never been his strong suit; his cleverness came in many forms, but never translated well onto paper. The prospect of juggling a minimum wage job and cram school just to fail the exams again next year definitely hadn’t appealed to Daishou, especially since he wanted to be able to provide for a life with Mika as soon as possible, so he’d turned to searching for other alternatives.

His first few schemes had been, admittedly, legal; quick, short term things like buying and selling antiques that he’d managed to unearth in forgotten stores and flea markets. It had been exciting at first, using his way with words to get a good deal and make his own money, but things had quickly soured when Daishou realised that this couldn’t give him a steady, or worthwhile, income. The failure stung, just as failing his entrance exams had, but Daishou had grimly pushed through in the hopes of finding his feet again, eventually joining a small smuggling operation based out of Kōtō-ku.

Joining the crew had been something of an accident, a misunderstanding of an employment offer made to him. He’d certainly never considered that he’d ever end up a criminal. Yet the more time that Daishou spent within the smuggling group, the more he came to realise that this was a world in which his talents and mind could really flourish. He’d stumbled over mathematics equations and faltered in his English classes, but he certainly made up for those faults in tonnes of cunning, resourcefulness and, perhaps most importantly, ambition. Daishou had soon learned such talents were necessary to survive in the cutthroat world of Tokyo’s criminal circles.

The work hadn’t been easy, of course. Daishou had been forced to start at the very bottom, assigned the dirty jobs that none of the other members of the crew wanted to touch. It had been hard work riddled with danger and risk, but Daishou had come out of every job more shrewd and tenacious than ever, quietly preparing for when his time would come.

It was barely three years after joining the crew that Daishou cut ties with them to begin his own smuggling operation—the Nohebi-gumi—and he certainly made sure that his exit was a memorable one. He not only recruited several high-ranking members from right under his former employer’s nose, but also took with him a stockpile of contacts, secrets and resources. They all proved invaluable in the weeks that followed as Daishou’s group began their operations from a small loft in Yokohama and steadily started to expand their influence further across Japan. It took a mere six months for the ring to completely dwarf Daishou’s former employers, forcing them out of Kōtō-ku to settle in Nagano-shi instead.

The continued rapid growth of their operations allowed the Nohebi-gumi to swap the compact loft of their starting days for a tall, sleek building in Nishi-ku. Situated less than half an hour away from the apartment Daishou shares with Mika, it’s in a prime location. Although it doesn’t particularly stand out from its neighbouring buildings, it certainly cuts an impressive image from the inside with a finely balanced mix between traditional Japanese decor and Western styles. Daishou had insisted on redesigning the whole place when they’d first bought the building, knowing how important it would be to maintain an imposing impression as they began expanding their dealings further and further beyond the borders of Japan.

None of the Nohebi-gumi members live in the building—even though there is easily room enough to fit them all—but the majority of them are already there by the time that Daishou arrives that afternoon, barring Seguro and a handful of others who have shifts at work. They’ve scattered across the main room, and don’t immediately appear to notice him as he slips his jacket over one of the chairs.

Numai has sprawled across one of the low sofas besides Kuguri, who seems to be trying—and failing—to ignore his loud chatter so that he can focus on his sketchpad instead. Kuroo’s words still burn hotly under Daishou’s skin, especially when he remembers that Kuguri has been working on filling his portfolio for an upcoming assessment, and he makes a mental note to leave him out of their next job so that he has time to catch up on schoolwork.

Sakijima, Akama and Takachiho are clustered around a table near one of the windows, engaged in a fierce game of cards that Daishou has no doubt one—or all—of them is trying to cheat at.

Despite the fact that he has called them all here to discuss their next target, which they’re acquiring for a foreign client operating out of France, very few of the members are actively working on the plans for their heist. Akaashi, Hiroo and Yaku have settled around another table, one covered in notes, photographs and files all related to their upcoming job. Daishou is quick to join them; if they want to stay on schedule with this client, who has been nothing but difficult so far, they’ve got a lot of work to do.

“Ah, Daishou-san,” Akaashi says, looking up from the file in his hands as Daishou approaches. They’ve made some progress since he last saw them by the look of things, and Daishou is keen to see where they stand. Hiroo and Yaku easily greet him as he slips in next to them, turning his attention to the materials scattered across the table in front of them.

“Now that you’re here,” Akaashi continues, “I have some suggestions for—”

“I was wondering when you were going to get here, buchō,” Sakijima interrupts from across the room. He’s grinning impishly at Daishou and the others over his cards, and there’s a spark in his eyes that spells mischief. He’s always been a little brattish, but Daishou can’t deny that he’s one of the best to have when it comes to infiltrating high-security targets. “Maybe you can _finally_ approve the infiltration plans now. Yakkun has been griping about them for _hours_ , and it’s giving me a headache.”

“Oi…” Yaku bristles across the room, immediately riled up. If he were a cat, there’s no doubt his hackles would be raised. “What did you just say? _You little_ —”

“So the plans are finished?” Daishou asks, smoothly and firmly cutting across the argument before it can start. Yaku and Sakijima have never gotten along, and it’s always been a fine line between peace and all out war between the two of them.

“Yes, I worked out the last few kinks last night after you left and Hiroo-san checked over my new infiltration proposal this morning,” Akaashi answers, easily ignoring the tension in the room and the near miss of an argument. He’s used to dealing with the mix of personalities within the Nohebi-gumi by now, and has no trouble in passing right above them all.

“Although…” he continues, frowning slightly down at the papers scattered across the table, “I have to confess… no matter what our plan to get into the building is, I’m not entirely convinced targeting the museum on the same night as Kuroo-san’s crew is—”

“Forget them, they’re irrelevant,” Daishou cuts in sharply. His voice is hard, and while he’s managed to keep a neutral expression, he can’t entirely mask the distaste in his voice. He can’t deny Kuroo’s ability as a thief, but from the moment they first met—when Kuroo had first proposed working together—they’ve been at odds.

“It’s still an added risk,” Akaashi responds, not thrown in the least, “we’d be better off rearranging for a later date.”

“No, we move as planned,” Daishou says with an air of finality. “We have a deal to complete, this client won’t wait. Besides, we chose our target long before Kuroo chose this museum and we’ve got more than enough skill to be in and out before they’ve even broken in.”

Across the room, Takachiho sets down his final card, and Akama groans loudly as he realises that he’s lost for the second round in a row. Sakijima folds his own cards, and turns his attention towards Daishou and the others at the table.

“What if we’re not in and out in time, though?” he asks.

They all look skeptical, as if they can’t entirely follow why he seems to be doubting their ability now. Sakijima is nothing if not confident, and he’s never been the sort to think they couldn’t pull off a job.

“No, no… hear me out here,” he continues when no one else says anything. “I’m not saying we _can’t_ do it. Fuck, I could do it by _myself_ and _still_ pull off a better job than those cat bastards, I’m saying what if we _don’t_ get out on purpose? We know roughly the kind of techniques they use, right? The press might not have picked up on their patterns but I know I’m not the only one here who has. Thanks to that calling card of theirs we know where they’re gonna be and pretty much when. Why not turn that to our advantage?”

“What are you suggesting, Sakijima-san?” Akaashi questions. He’s got an eyebrow raised, and still looks just as skeptical as before. He’s always been the analytical sort, the one that Daishou is mostly comfortable leaving to plan out the strategy for each job they take on, and he’s never enjoyed Sakijima’s reckless input into their work.

It’s no bother to Sakijima though; he’s used to Akaashi’s somewhat cool attitude by now, and he’s more than confident enough not to be put off by something like that.

“What do you think, _Keiji-kun_?” Sakijima grins wickedly with a flash of white teeth. “I’m suggesting we set them up.”

“How?” Numai asks, apparently having given up trying to drag Kuguri into a conversation.

“Well, it’d be easy, wouldn’t it?” Sakijima replies with a smooth shrug, as if it’s no big deal to him either way, as if he’s not talking about backstabbing another organisation. “We tip off the police. That fancy task force set up to catch them is all over the news with their tip line. We have the building plans, we just call them up and let them know the exits they’re most likely to use, right? Then we hold Kuroo’s crew off until their exits are blocked and get the hell out of there.”

“Idiot,” Yaku scoffs. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest. “That would only end up with _us_ getting arrested too. What a stupid idea.”

“Unless…” It’s Hiroo who cuts in this time, before Sakijima has a chance to respond. His voice is low and quiet, but no one attempts to talk over him. “More focus on the exits Kuroo-san would use would mean less focus on ours. It could make it easier for us to get in and out.”

“Exactly,” Sakijima grins, dividing the deck of cards with deft, expert hands, “and if we get in early, we can have the print all strapped in to transport by the time Kuroo and his bumbling band of morons even breach security, so the extra police presence isn’t going to make much difference to us.”

“Plus—” Takachiho comments with a sly smile, peeking up from his freshly dealt cards, “if they get arrested, they’re out of the way for good, aren’t they?”

Silence settles over the room for a moment, resting over their heads while they each process the gravity of what Sakijima has suggested. It’s Akaashi who breaks it, with a quiet but firm, “Don’t be ridiculous. Not only do we have no need to resort to that, but it’s another unnecessary risk to our own operation. Now, Daishou-san, if you wouldn’t mind looking over the plans for final approval…”

The subject is dropped after that, and the focus returns to the plans for the next job; but at no point has Daishou disagreed that playing dirty is a good, and smart, move to make. This fact is now lost on Sakijima, who continues to flash him sly grins over his cards from the other side of the room. Daishou accepts the file from Akaashi to review his suggestions and plans, but Sakijima’s idea sits in his head, simmering quietly on the back burner for later.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY THIS CHAPTER IS FINISHED. honestly, this chapter is one i've been looking forward to writing since i planned this fic but just completely kicked my ass that i am.... so done. almost 8 months & 7600 words later....... here we are. kudos, comments, etc+ are always appreciated, lemme know if this chapter was worth the wait or what you enjoyed most!!
> 
> huge huge huge thanks as always to benny ♡ for being a fantastic beta for this fic and a great friend (and also for putting up with me complaining how much i hate writing dialogue or asking stupid questions when i forget a word i need to use) ♡♡♡♡

The reconnaissance for their next heist runs even more smoothly than normal.

Oikawa can only assume that it’s because of the intel they were able to obtain from Sugawara. Begrudgingly, Oikawa has to admit that if it weren’t for Sugawara’s help, he and the rest of the crew would probably still be floundering around while Kuroo struggled to find their next target, an ukiyo-e woodblock print.

He and Fukunaga have gotten their routine worked out by now, both of them easily falling into the same roles each time they take on a new job. They’ve run enough reconnaissance missions together to know each other’s strong points, and the kind of information they need to gather.

Oikawa’s work begins by breezing in through the main entrance of their next target—the Ota Memorial Museum of Art in Shibuya—right in the middle of the day. It’s the same way he approaches every recon mission, bold as brass as if he has nothing to hide, as if he’s  _not_ planning to steal a masterpiece from right under their noses.

It’s easy enough to chat with the curators and guides that filter around the galleries. Oikawa has always been gifted at reading the emotions and motivations of those around him. It’s a skill he used to apply back in high school when he captained the volleyball team, observing the ways they moved, the ways they _didn’t_ move, to work out what he needed to do next. It’s a talent that he’s only sharpened with time. With a careful smile or some tactfully laid flattery, he can pull the information he needs from them in amounts so small that they often don’t even realise they’ve given anything important away.

It’s in the shadow of Oikawa’s brazen entrance that Fukunaga operates, slipping in a few steps behind to retrieve the information Oikawa can’t coax or tease out of the staff. He snaps photographs of cameras and guard positions and locks on display cases and emergency exits, disguising them all as reference photos for an art or history project for university. It’s a story so ordinary that it’s never been questioned before; he’s not the first student to take photos of the exhibits, and he certainly won’t be the last. When photographs aren’t allowed, he sketches them instead.

Fukunaga lacks the same outward flare as Oikawa, and it allows him to play the role of the innocent student well. He’s proven to be the perfect foil to Oikawa, and just as effective at gathering intel for the crew; so much so that Kuroo knows it’s best to leave the pair of them to it when they begin to prepare for the next job.

It only takes an afternoon for them to collect all the information they need, since they don’t require nearly as much intel this time around. The Ota Memorial Museum is a much smaller building than the other places they’ve targeted in the past, with far less security than they usually encounter.

Oikawa leaves with a wide smile and an empty promise to return when they next rotate the exhibitions. Fukunaga follows half an hour later with a memory card filled with pictures. It’s still early days, at least a week or two before the plans will be finished and they can infiltrate the place, but there’s a lightness to their steps as they slip away to report back to Kuroo and the others.

 

*****

 

Laying the groundwork may have gone smoothly, but the same can’t be said for the actual heist.

The moment that they enter the museum, Kuroo feels like something is _off_. They’ve honed their skills considerably since the first few heists together and infiltrating their targets gets easier each time, but tonight it feels just a little _too_ easy. The police and media frenzy had still been present, all bright lights and excited chatter, but their presence hadn’t felt as intense as normal. The uncertainty isn’t enough for Kuroo to call off the heist, not when he doesn’t have any concrete reason for the anxiety prickling along the column of his throat, but it’s enough to keep him checking over his shoulder as he slips through the dim hallways behind the rest of his crew.

None of the others seem to be as concerned as Kuroo. Kai hasn’t reported in anything fishy over their earpieces and Komi and Terushima are jostling each other good-naturedly a little further ahead. There’s a skip to Oikawa’s steps that wordlessly says he’s riding the rush that comes with each heist.

They’ve almost reached the gallery hall without incident when Kuroo first hears the voices.

Kuroo freezes. The others are quick to do the same when they pick up on the sound too.

“That can’t be security,” Komi hisses, snapping his head back to find Kuroo, “they’re meant to be focused on the safe, right? That’s where all the important exhibits are right now.”

Komi is no stranger to pressure on the job, having spent years consulting with the metropolitan police as a private safecracker before becoming a thief, but it’s an entirely different kind of pressure working on the wrong side of the law. One wrong step here doesn’t mean some ribbing from his co-workers and having to resort to another method, it means being arrested.

It’s clear from the look on his face he’s seeking some kind of guidance. He trusts Kuroo implicitly to lead them through this. Kuroo has gotten them in and out of every heist so far, and Komi has no reason to doubt him now.

“No… it’s not them,” Kuroo murmurs in agreement, holding up a hand to signal the others to stay quiet. The voices are still just a little out of reach, just a little too far away to clearly hear. “Security would be noisier. You saw Oikawa’s notes, they’re just regular guys, not from any professional security firm.”

Komi doesn’t look any more relieved at that. “Police?”

Oikawa shakes his head. He’s always been perceptive, with a talent for unravelling his rival’s strategy if he’s given enough time to watch and study their moves. This doesn’t feel like a tactic the police would try. There’s no doubt the voices would draw them in somehow, but giving away their position before they’ve even caught sight of any suspects seems too clumsy for a specialised police task force, at least to Oikawa. He’s heard too many second-hand stories from Iwaizumi’s past cases to think this is a move they’d try now.

“The police wouldn’t want to make any noise at all,” he replies, “they’d be more likely to lay low and have us walk into an ambush instead.”

Terushima frowns, the skin pinching between his eyes. He’s drawn back down the hallway and away from the direction of the gallery. He was as reckless as they came when he was still living on the streets, with quick fingers and little care about what might happen if he were caught. Even now, when he’s swapped a makeshift camp in Ueno Park for an apartment in Nishigotanda, he’s usually the first of them to slip into the dark hallways of whatever museum or gallery they’ve targeted. This apprehension is a side to Terushima that Kuroo rarely sees, but it’s a reminder of just how much he’s grown. Once, Terushima might have gone charging off on his own in a situation like this, but now he knows he can rely on the crew he has around him.

“Then who the hell _is it_?” he questions.

“I… don’t know. We weren’t expecting anyone to be in this section,” Kuroo answers frankly. He can usually keep his cool when it comes to things going a little pear-shaped during a job, but there are tendrils of panic beginning to unfurl under his ribcage.  “So— so we should call this job off, regroup and come back another night.”

It’s the most sensible decision to make in this situation. The voices up ahead are a complete unknown, an anomaly they haven’t accounted for even in their “ _what-if_ ” scenario planning. Kuroo knows failing a heist, but surviving to steal another day is a much more preferable outcome to half of his crew being arrested in a single night.

“I’ve had a weird feeling since we got here,” he continues, “everything was too _easy_ , even for a place like this. We’ll head for the exit point now and re-evaluate our—”

“No!” Oikawa cuts in, firmly. His voice isn’t loud, but it doesn’t need to be for them all to hear the fierceness of it. “We can’t just _give up_ now, Tetsurou.”

So used the usual sugary nicknames that Oikawa bestows upon almost everyone in the crew, the lack of one now startles Kuroo into silence. The other crew members seem just as surprised, heads snapping to face Oikawa with mildly wide-eyed expressions. They’re all more than aware of the hidden depths to Oikawa. They’ve seen and accepted the childish rashness that ensnares him sometimes and have grown used to the snide comments he sometimes throws into conversation, but it’s just as easy to forget the intensity behind his blasé exterior.

None of them respond, but it doesn’t deter Oikawa.

“We’ve already gotten this far,” he says, sweeping his arm in a gesture back at the hallway behind them, “ _and_ we managed to get around the security patrol in the Diet library. We all signed up for this kind of risk when we chose to stay, so let us do our job. I believe in all of you, all of _us_. Don’t you?”

“You know I do,” Kuroo answers with a frown. He _wishes_ that it was as simple as just believing in his team. He’s seen what they can do, what they’re capable of, but this isn’t a game, no matter how much like one it might feel. They can’t afford to be careless, can’t afford to push their luck. “But that doesn’t mean we should be taking stupid risks.”

“We get that, Kuroo, but… it won’t hurt to at least _look_ , right?” Komi says quietly. It’s partly an attempt to curb the growing tension before it turns sour, but he can see the weight behind Oikawa’s argument too. He won’t go against Kuroo if he still decides that they’re calling the heist off, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to continue. They all want to do this for Kuroo, for his grandfather and Nekomata, and they’re willing to face a little bit of danger if it means doing just that. “And if it looks like we’re biting off way more than we can chew, then we just head straight for the exit point. We can pull that off at least, right?”

Kuroo’s still not entirely convinced. He doesn’t want to admit defeat and have to retreat, not after all the work they’ve put in, not with the knowledge that he might _never again_ get such a perfect chance to break into this place, but he values his crew more than any priceless woodblock print. If falling back means they avoid being arrested, then it’s a blow he’ll take time and time again.

After a moment, he sighs.

“Alright, fine… we keep going,” he says, even though his gut is still telling him to get out _now_ , “but we’re on alert for _anything_ out of the ordinary. First sign of trouble and we’re out of here, okay?”

Once Kuroo’s got verbal confirmation from them all, he presses back into action. The others easily fall into step behind him as they begin heading back down the hallway again, content to follow his lead. They pass another long hallway on their left, shrouded entirely in darkness beyond the reach of their headlamps. _The way to the gift shop_ , Kuroo remembers as they slip past, _possible exit point via the roof that way, but_ _not much else_. He’s still unbelievably tense, but being able to recall and recite the little details helps to settle his nerves slightly. It reminds him just how prepared they came for this heist. The voices have thrown a spanner in the works, but they still know this place inside and out.

The hefty double doors to the gallery have been left slightly ajar, allowing the voices to seep out as they approach. The voices are muted, as if whoever is speaking has moved to the other end of the gallery. It’s a thought that doesn’t provide much relief. Kuroo doesn’t have to worry about any of the crew being spotted so much if whoever is inside has moved away from the doors, but the fact that they’re not actually leaving the gallery is bad news. Kuroo can’t pick out exactly what they’re saying, but there’s _something_ about one of the voices that has his ears straining to listen harder.  

He’s almost within reach to peer through the doors into the gallery itself when everything falls apart.

Oikawa yelps as someone appears from the darkness they’ve left behind them and rushes him. A quick, blunt pain hits him before he sees his attacker; something connects with his ankle with enough force to knock his footing out from under him. His attempts to right himself mid-fall prove fruitless, and he lands hard as one of his knees collides with the dense marble floor. He feels a sharper, more intense kind of pain shoot from his knee as he rolls over onto his back; not from the initial impact, but from the awkward way he’d twisted to try and catch himself as he’d fallen. He’s had enough minor injuries in the past—life as an overachieving high school athlete had seen to that—to know he’s pulled something at the very least, if not worse.

Kuroo turns just in time to see Oikawa hit the floor, and moves without even thinking, abandoning the gallery doors to rush to his side. With a firm hand on Oikawa’s back, Kuroo helps him sit up and checks him over quickly. When he’s satisfied that Oikawa is still conscious and coherent, he allows his attention to fall to the two men who have slipped from the shadows.

One is tall and angular with a thick, dark head of hair. His fringe falls heavily on one side, long enough to almost entirely cover one eye. He looks almost bored by the scene unfolding in front of him, as if seeing his partner assault someone hasn’t phased him in the slightest. The other stranger is a good few inches shorter, with light, straw-coloured hair and cheeks dusted with freckles. His eyes are dark and hooded, but there’s a sharpness to his gaze as he regards them all with a sly grin.

“Wait…” Kuroo frowns as he looks between them, “I’ve seen you two before. You work for Daishou.”

“How terrible, Sakishima. It seems our cover is blown,” the taller man quips, in a complete deadpan.

The other man— _Sakishima_ —snickers at the comment.

" _It's awful_ ,” he agrees in the same sarcastic lilt, “buchō never told us how _clever_ they were, Hiroo.”

Kuroo scowls. He only recognises them from a brief meeting when he’d first approached Daishou, shortly before he’d started his life as a phantom thief. The two of them had been part of a handful of members lounging around the Nohebi-gumi building that day. Kuroo knows he _should_ feel better that it’s not a group of officers waiting to detain them, but in truth, the knowledge that the voices they’ve been hearing are almost definitely other members of Daishou’s smuggling ring doesn’t make him feel any more at ease.

They can only have appeared from behind, no doubt tucked away in the hallway he’d almost completely overlooked just a moment before. He curses the oversight now. The sound of voices should have made him more cautious, had him re-checking every corner _just in case_ , but he’d allowed the unknown voices to distract him so thoroughly that one of his crew ended up ambushed and injured.

No doubt, though, that was what these men had intended from the start. Kuroo’s seen first-hand how absolutely _filthy_ the Nohebi-gumi’s tactics can be. Daishou has never had any issue playing fast and loose with morals so long as the job gets done; clearly the men who work for him feel exactly the same way. A security patrol probably would have been safer.

Terushima beats him to confronting them properly, surging forward as if he’s about to fight them both on his own. Komi intervenes just in time, flinging an arm out in front of Terushima to hold back his advance mere metres from the shorter of the two men.

“Who _the hell_ do you think you are?” Terushima snaps, all care and quiet forgotten as his temper flares. He’s never blown their cover before, but his desire to defend his crew—his _family_ —trumps his need for caution.

The outburst doesn’t seem to threaten either of the men in the slightest. Hiroo especially looks entirely unruffled, not even glancing up from the message he’s tapping out on a small, disposable flip phone.

“You should know professionals when you see them,” Sakishima answers evenly. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Terushima as he speaks. The smile he wears is almost gleeful. “But then again… maybe that’s too much to ask from a street rat.”

The words are a calculated jab, barbed and sharp and _intended_ to hurt. They’ve obviously done a little research into the crew for one reason or another, because they seem to know just who they are and just where to _dig_. Terushima knows he should let it go over his head, but that’s a lot easier _said_ than done. He gives another attempt to fly forwards, and this time Komi has to put real effort into holding him back.

“You’d probably still be living in that _dire_ homeless camp in Ueno if it weren’t for Kuroo taking pity on you, wouldn’t you?” Sakishima continues with a slow, creeping smile. The venomous words drop so easily from his lips, as light and breezy as if he’s discussing the weather. “Although I hear the police broke it up again just last week, so who knows _what_ alley you’d be calling home now.”

“Fuck. You,” Terushima spits out, teeth clenched and jaw tight. He’s been open enough about his past with the crew, about living on the streets after high school, but it’s still a tender subject. Having it picked at and toyed with like a raw nerve is the last thing he needs. His anger goes unheeded again, because Sakishima merely laughs.  

“That’s enough, Saki,” Hiroo cuts in, but not for Terushima’s sake. He doesn’t particularly care about sparing anyone’s feelings, certainly not someone in Kuroo Tetsurou’s ring of thieves. He’s simply tiring of the back-and-forth, and keen to move things along. His tone is as unreadable as his face, but it either doesn’t bother Sakishima, or he’s simply used to reading between the lines when it comes to knowing what Hiroo really means.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sakishima replies with a wave of his hand, “we don’t want to keep buchō waiting. He was so _eager_ to speak to these assholes after all.”

“ _Buchō_ ?” Kuroo snorts, despite himself and the atmosphere. “So he _is_ here then. I thought these days he was in the habit of handing off all the hard work to other people.”

Sakishima bristles at the taunt, and Kuroo can’t help but find a certain amount of satisfaction in watching the mockery of his smile fall. The expression is replaced by a deep scowl, displeasure resting heavily in the furrowed corners of his lips. Sakishima isn’t the meek sort; like his biting comments to Terushima, he’s not afraid to dig deep to defend his boss’s honour if he has to.

The doors to the gallery open before he gets the chance, and out steps Daishou himself, stowing away a flip phone almost identical to the one Hiroo had been using. It _reeks_ of planning and intent, but Kuroo can’t even begin to work out why Daishou and his men would be so keen to meet with them, here, in the middle of a heist.

Daishou looks utterly at ease as he moves closer, flanked by two other men.

Kuroo knows one of them to be called Numai. He’s lean and muscular in build, with bleached hair that bears more than a passing resemblance to Terushima’s. There’s an arrogance about him, standing directly at Daishou’s side with a small woodblock print strapped to his back, clearly the latest piece Daishou has been contracted to smuggle out of the country for a client. The other man holds himself more carefully a step or two behind with his hands folded almost politely behind his back. His hair is dark like Hiroo’s, but shorter and curlier. He’s sort of beautiful, even in the dim lighting, but Kuroo doesn’t recognise him.

“Why wouldn’t I be here?” Daishou chimes in, skipping any kind of formal greeting. He’s never been one for pleasantries, and tonight is no different. “I couldn’t pass up the chance to say goodbye.”

Kuroo frowns. “ _Goodbye?”_

“You haven’t heard? The police are about to make a vital arrest tonight.” Daishou grins, but there’s no warmth to it.  “And of course, you’re the guests of honour.”

“The _what_?” Oikawa asks tightly.

“The guests of honour,” Daishou says again. His grin has curled slowly across his face, a toothy, almost predatory thing as he lets his eyes fall towards Kuroo and Oikawa on the floor. “They’re here for you, after all. We just… gave them a little nudge in the right direction. As upstanding citizens, we were _obligated_ to tell the police what we knew when that fancy task force posted their tip line number.”

Kuroo swallows around a lump in his throat, but only succeeds in forcing it down into the pit of his stomach. Daishou’s vague words settle heavily alongside it, churning with the anxiety that has been plaguing him since the very start. He almost doesn’t want to ask any more, almost wants the bigger picture to remain under wraps, because he knows that whatever scheme Daishou has put together tonight, it’s not going to be pretty.

He asks anyway. “What have you done?”

“When we found out that you’d be here the same night as us... it was too much of an opportunity to pass up. We weren’t about to call it quits just because you were bringing a media storm with you, especially when we realised we could use that to make _our_ job easier,” Daishou replies, with such a casual air about him that he may as well be discussing sports tactics rather than the apparently elaborate setup that he’s dropped right onto Kuroo and his crew.

“You were a distraction waiting to be utilised. All we had to do was make sure the police and press were so focused on _you_ fucking up, that they were blind to anything else going on. But that meant the police had to actually catch you. What better way to make sure that happened than to block off any chance of escape?” Daishou continues. With each word, Kuroo feels his stomach sink. “So we studied the building plans, talked with the staff… managed to find out all those handy little entrance and exit points. I couldn’t be sure which ones you’d pick, but turns out all we had to do was tip your task force off about all those _possible_ exit points and they handled the rest.”

Kuroo feels Oikawa stiffen. He can feel the tightness of Oikawa’s shoulder blades underneath the hand he’s been resting there for support. At this point, Daishou lets out a short laugh. He looks every inch like the cat that swallowed the canary.

“Well, _almost_ every exit,” he adds, almost as an afterthought. “We made sure to drop a ruse to cover our own way out. Not that we really needed it. All the police focus on the other escape routes means there’s almost none on ours.”

“And I’m not supposed to take it personally?” Kuroo snorts. “Sounds pretty personal to me, Daishou.”

“I won’t lie, the thought of seeing you and your gang of second-rate pickpockets arrested and behind bars was definitely a motivating factor,” he concedes, “but don’t be so big-headed as to think it was all about you. You didn’t make that much of an impact on me, Kuroo.”

Kuroo bristles at the confession.

The rest of his crew aren’t faring much better. Oikawa’s whole body is tense, and not just because of the pain in his knee and ankle. The line of Komi’s jaw is tight, hard, but his grip on Terushima—who still looks ready to try and punch at least one of the Nohebi members—is slackening as his mind reels with the realisation of what Daishou has done.

Their exit points are cut off, or in the process of being cut off, and the gravity of their situation is starting to sink in. With that revelation comes the potent, creeping tendrils of fear. They’ve never faced this kind of problem before on a heist, nor have they ever faced this much risk of being caught.

Daishou is entirely unaffected, and seemingly tiring of taunts. He cuts through the quiet with a brief but firm order to one of his men.  “Akaashi, go on ahead. Tell the others to bring the cars around. We’re done here, and I don’t want any delays when we leave.”

The name that Daishou uses doesn’t mean anything to Kuroo, so he can only be talking to the curly-haired man next to Numai. He’s proven a stark contrast to the other members of the Nohebi-gumi present so far. The man has shown none of the same arrogance or mocking smiles as Hiroo and Sakishima, holding himself with far more restraint than Numai’s bold, brazen stance directly at Daishou’s side. The corners of his lips are downturned at the corners, in a manner that almost seems like disapproval. Kuroo files his name, and face, away for later.

Unfolding his hands from behind his back, Akaashi bobs his head in a minute bow to acknowledge the order. His expression hasn’t changed in the slightest, still fixed in place with that slight hint of irritation.

“I would make whatever you have left to say quick,” he comments as he passes Daishou, seemingly with no qualms about addressing his boss so bluntly, “before you end up getting caught in your own snare.”

Akaashi doesn’t waste any more time, slipping past them all and down the dim hallway splitting off to the side. Numai, Sakishima and Hiroo don’t make any move to follow Akaashi, not yet. Their presence is no doubt meant as a deterrent to stop Kuroo or any of his crew from retaliating, but also to keep guard over Daishou just in case they attempt to anyway.

No one speaks for a few long beats. Kuroo is struggling to fight past the anger and the lingering panic to find any words to respond to this situation. He’s angry in a way he hasn’t been in a long time, perhaps in a way he never has been. It’s an anger hot enough that it shows in his voice when he finally manages to spit out a response.

“So much for _professionalism_ , Daishou!” he snaps. “I always knew you were a bastard, but this is a new low even for you.”

Daishou only laughs again. It’s a hollow thing, devoid of mirth as it echoes in the hallway. He waves off the remaining members of his crew, knowing that he’ll be joining them in just a moment. Numai is the first to disappear around the corner, the woodblock print still strapped securely to his back. Hiroo and Sakishima are quick to follow, soon vanishing beyond the reach of their headtorches into the darkness of the hallway.

There’s a rush of satisfaction humming through Daishou’s chest at having gotten this deep under Kuroo’s skin, in beating him quite so thoroughly, but he doesn’t plan on staying around to watch the fallout; nor does he need to. The Cat Burglars have always been high-profile news; their arrest will be no different. He can simply catch up on it all from the safety and comfort of his apartment in Yokohama.

“ _Professionalism_?” he repeats coolly. There’s a sharp bitterness tucked into the corner of his smile. “Don’t tell me you believe in honour among thieves? There _is_ no such thing. In this world, it all boils down to creating favourable winds for _yourself_. Only you would be naive enough to believe otherwise. As much as I’d love to stay and debate the issue, I’ve got a ride waiting, and a client to see. It’s been fun, Kuroo, but it’s game over now.”

Daishou doesn’t linger for long after that, vanishing into the darkness the same way as the others. Kuroo is enraged by Daishou’s words, but he’s got bigger, more pressing matters to focus on than his anger right now. He’ll have time to vent later, when this whole sorry mess is far, far behind them.

Kuroo lets his attention fall back to Oikawa, who still feels tense beside him. He hasn’t said a word since Daishou revealed all, and frankly, it’s a little unsettling. Oikawa has never been one to shy away from a challenge. He’d had no fear when going toe to toe with Sugawara, even knowing the other man was a high-level and exceedingly influential yakuza, nor has he ever faltered during their heists in the past. Either the news that the police could very well catch them tonight has shaken Oikawa that badly, or the pain from his fall is just that unbearable. Kuroo isn’t sure which reason for his silence is worse.

Now that the Nohebi-gumi are no longer hovering over them like a raincloud, Terushima and Komi fall back to join them. Terushima’s jaw is tight and taut as he takes over from Kuroo supporting Oikawa’s back. Sakishima’s harsh, biting remarks will haunt him for a long time to come. Komi manages a smile at least as he crouches down at Oikawa’s feet, but there’s a shakiness to it not found in his usual bright, vivacious grins.

With a little help from them both—and only minor protests from Oikawa—Kuroo manages to push Oikawa’s trouser leg far enough out of the way to examine him more thoroughly. There’s a nasty graze on his ankle, and hints of what looks like will be bad bruising blooming to life under the skin. His knee is already starting to swell, feeling hot to the touch, though thankfully there’s no blood or grazing there.

Oikawa forces back a groan as Kuroo feels around the flushed skin of his knee, and almost cries out when, with one hand on his knee joint and the other on his ankle, Kuroo begins to move the leg from side to side. Oikawa recognises what Kuroo is doing; this examination—a stress test to check the ligaments in his knee—is one that he’s dealt with before, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

His knee has definitely taken some damage, and given his reaction to Kuroo’s quick examination, it’s more than likely a bad sprain or a torn _something_ thanks to his awkward movement mid-fall. Whatever the case, with the stability of Oikawa’s knee potentially compromised, it makes things extremely difficult for them. Having to account for Oikawa with a crippling injury will only make their escape window even tighter.

The need to get back to Saeko’s van and away from the museum is even more vital now that the police have been tipped off to all of their planned exit points. The police obviously haven’t _completely_ surrounded the building—Daishou had said as much; they’d left an escape route for themselves, and he wouldn’t have come tonight if he wasn’t completely certain that route would remain free to use—but there’s no telling how long it will be before the police realise they’ve got a blind spot; or worse, until they find the others. Given that neither Kai nor Saeko has chimed in over their earpieces yet, Kuroo can’t help but fear that they’ve been found already.

“Can you stand? Your knee looks bad,” Kuroo says, trying to push aside that worry for a moment. It’s not an easy feat. He’s furious about Daishou and the rest of his smuggling ring setting them up, but his biggest concern right now is making sure that his crew manage to make it out safely. He can only attempt to swallow down the fear and anger for now, until they’re safe in the back of the van and Saeko is flooring the accelerator to get them out of there.

“Of course I can,” Oikawa huffs, as stubborn as ever, but he can’t hide the sharp wince that slips out when Kuroo attempts to help him to his feet. Even leaning heavily against Kuroo and keeping all of his weight on one leg, he looks unsteady.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Terushima cuts in sharply, offering some extra support with an arm around Oikawa’s midriff. “You can’t even support your full weight right now.”

For all his stubbornness, there’s no way Oikawa is in a position to run for the exit right now, not when he can barely stand. No one seems to want to say anything, to bring up the dawning realisation that they’re running out of viable options as well as time.

Oikawa is the one to shatter the silence, cutting through the panic hovering over them all with a voice that sounds almost too calm for the situation. “Then leave me and go. Head to the emergency exit on the roof. If you go now—”

“ _Don’t be stupid, Oikawa!_ ” Kuroo cuts in sharply, just a little hysterical. This is a fuck-up beyond anything that’s happened on any of their heists before, and now his panic won’t ease up. He’d always known it was a distinct possibility, that any of his crew could end up getting caught one day, but it had seemed such a far off thing then, such an _impossibility_. “We’re not going to just… just _leave you_ here. Don’t be an idiot! We’ll carry you out if you can’t—”

“No, Tetsu-chan.” It’s Oikawa’s turn to interrupt this time. Their situation is looking dire, but despite the tension, he doesn’t seem to have lost his composure. The words that eluded him earlier seem to have no trouble coming now. The rush of the heist has long since burnt away into a sharp, quiet focus. Like this, it’s easy to see why he’d flourished as a team captain. “I can walk, I think, but there’s no way I can keep up with you all like this. I definitely couldn’t manage the jump over to the next building. Carrying me would only slow you down, and I’d still end up stranded on the roof. If there was another way, I’d take it, but we don’t have a choice here.”

They aren’t afforded much time to mull over Oikawa’s words.

Another unexpected sound reaches them in the hallway, and this time it’s not the hum of distant, unknown voices but a steady crescendo of footsteps. With Daishou and his men long gone, it can only be the police beginning to infiltrate, aiming to pen them in while each and every exit point is steadily, systematically, closed off.

Oikawa flashes them a small, wan smile. It’s tight with determination, the kind they all know means he’s made up his mind and won’t be swayed, no matter what they say.

“If you go now, you can still make it,” he continues, wincing slightly as he catches himself shifting some weight onto his bad leg. “There’s no chance they’ve had time to contact the owners next door to get clearance to put officers on the roof. There’s a fire escape you can use that’ll let you out near Saeko’s van. I doubt they’ve roped that street off yet, it comes out pretty far from the front of this place. That’s probably the way Daishou took, but the police will realise they’ve missed it soon. They’re thorough. The quicker you get moving, the better.” 

“But that means… they’re going to find you here,” Komi says, broaching the unspoken point that none of them want to voice in a bid to put a bold face on things. “And when they do…”

There’s a grim kind of resignation washing over Oikawa now as he shuffles free from the support that Terushima and Kuroo have been giving him. He winces again, for a minute looking as if his knee is about to buckle out from under him, but manages to stay standing.

“And when they do, I’ll buy as much time as I can for you all,” Oikawa says firmly. He smiles again, and it wavers only slightly. “ _Now go!_ ”

 

*****

 

Kuroo and the others have only just managed to slip into the hallway branching off to the side, the very same one that Daishou had made his escape with, when the first of the police officers rounds the other corner at the far end. It’s a close call,  _too close_ a call. If they’d stayed to protest for even just a few moments longer, they’d have all been caught. Oikawa knows there’s still no absolute guarantee that they’ll make it out, but he has to hope they will. At the very least, him being here should prove enough of a distraction for the police to buy them a little more time to make their escape.

The hallway is dim without the glow of the whole crew’s headlamps. From the light of his own and the torches of the approaching officers, Oikawa can just about make them out. He doesn’t recognise the first two—a brown haired youth in a pressed, fitted suit and an officer with a shock of what appears to be white and black hair—but Oikawa recognises the third in a heartbeat.

There’s no mistaking him even in the low light. He’d know Iwaizumi anywhere.

He’d known this was a risk from the moment that Iwaizumi had told him he’d been asked to lead the task force in charge of arresting his crew. Yet it had always seemed like something that would never matter, something that would never _actually_ happen.

Oikawa tears his eyes away from the end of the hallway almost immediately, keeping his face towards the marble floor. There’s no way he can get himself out of this situation—not with an injured, swelling knee, a bad ankle and a hefty police perimeter—but the longer he can hold off revealing himself, the better. Not only will it buy his crew some time, but it puts off having to drop this bomb directly onto Iwaizumi’s lap. Oikawa can already tell that whatever Iwaizumi’s reaction will be when he recognises him won’t be good.

They’ve been through hell together, but he’s not sure if there’s any way to salvage _this_.

It’s not just the fact that Oikawa is a thief— _a criminal_ —that will destroy Iwaizumi. Years ago, when Oikawa had been drowning under the pressure of high school and Iwaizumi had barely been keeping afloat after the loss of his father, they’d sworn to always be honest with each other, to talk when things got tough. Oikawa feels the sharp ache of guilt settle in his stomach again. What will really hurt Iwaizumi is finding out that Oikawa _lied_ , knowing that every time they met for lunch or dinner or drinks, Oikawa consciously _chose_ to deceive him.

Oikawa is well aware this could mean the end of their friendship, that years of support and laughter could easily be washed away. He’s well aware this will probably end the chance that one day, maybe, they might have ended up something _more_.

Oikawa swallows around the panic lodged in the back of his throat, but can’t bring himself to look up until he sees the worn leather of Iwaizumi’s shoes just a few short steps away. He doesn’t miss the way that Iwaizumi’s entire frame freezes when their eyes meet, as if until that point he’d been hoping to be wrong, hoping that it would just turn out to be someone who _looked_ like Oikawa.

There’s no way that Iwaizumi can deny this though, not now. Oikawa is standing right in front of him, as plain as day in the middle of the scene of the crime. If they were in any other situation, Oikawa might have been tempted to reach out towards Iwaizumi, to take his hand and try to curb that look of utter vulnerability etched boldly across his face.

That vulnerability soon morphs into hurt, and from hurt it hardens into an icy, tempered anger. Oikawa knows almost every expression that Iwaizumi has ever made, but he’s never had one this cold directed at him before. When Iwaizumi opens his mouth to speak, Oikawa has to stop himself leaning forward, stop himself from expecting Iwaizumi to promise to get him out of this, like he has always done when Oikawa’s been in trouble he can’t solve on his own before.

“Someone handcuff this jackass already,” is what Iwaizumi says instead, “get him out of my sight.” His voice is hard, measured. It’s a sound that hurts Oikawa even more than the chill of Iwaizumi’s anger, because he knows that means Iwaizumi is beginning to close himself off again. It’s the one thing that he’d promised Oikawa he would never do again, not so long as they had each other to rely on.

The officer with the gelled white and black hair steps forward to do just that, securing Oikawa’s hands behind his back. The handcuffs are snug, but they don’t bite into his skin like he’d always expected they would after watching so many television dramas. The pain in his knee is starting to act up now, and it doesn’t get any better when the officer starts to push him into moving. The first couple of steps are hard and painful, and Oikawa’s forced to settle into a heavy limp if he wants to take any more without his knee buckling completely.

He wants to say something, _anything_ , before he’s ushered completely down the hallway, but the words just won’t seem to come. Iwaizumi doesn’t seem able to say anything more either.

He refuses to meet Oikawa’s eyes as he’s led away.

 

*****

 

“You know who that is, don’t you?” Futakuchi asks, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches Bokuto guide Oikawa towards the exit in handcuffs. He doesn’t appear to notice—or perhaps chooses not to comment on—Iwaizumi’s stiff form and tense jaw. “Do you think it’s worth looking into the rest of his family? I never pegged the Oikawa Group as shady, but it’s kind of suspicious finding their chairman’s son at the scene of a heist, don’t you think?”

For what feels like the longest time, Iwaizumi doesn’t register what Futakuchi has said. When reality finally clicks again for Iwaizumi, Futakuchi is staring at him, clearly waiting for a response.

“Shit, what a mess…” Iwaizumi manages eventually. He can only hope that his voice doesn’t sound as strained as he feels. He can’t shake the image of Oikawa being hauled unsteadily away. “It’s a lead we’ll have to consider, but not now. Our first priority is controlling the press on this for the time being, make sure they’re out of the way before Bokuto gets him outside. If word leaks that there’s a possible tie to the Oikawa Group… it really won’t be pretty.”

Futakuchi maintains the same level look for a few seconds more, and it takes all of Iwaizumi’s willpower to keep his face blank. He can’t deny that Futakuchi’s sharp mind and somewhat natural suspicion of everyone is what makes him a damn good agent, but it’s the last thing he needs directed at him right now. It’s one thing for it to come out in the investigation that he and Oikawa went to school together, but if it were to be revealed that they were still in contact—still so _close_ —Iwaizumi knows he’d be pulled from the case faster than he could blink. He can’t let that happen. He _won’t_.

Iwaizumi’s stomach feels heavy with guilt at the thought of having to keep information from his own task force. He’s arrested more than his fair share of people for obstructing the course of justice before, but he’d never thought that he’d find himself in their shoes one day. It doesn’t sit well with him at all, but Iwaizumi knows he has no other choice. He can’t let anyone else handle a case where Oikawa has just become a major suspect.

“You’re the boss,” Futakuchi replies at last without much protest. Iwaizumi fights the urge to sag in relief. Perhaps he’d simply been reading too much into Futakuchi’s expression after all.

With little in the way of a goodbye, Futakuchi heads off in the same direction as Bokuto and Oikawa. Iwaizumi watches him all the way down the hallway, until he’s vanished around the corner. Even after Futakuchi has gone, leaving Iwaizumi alone with nothing but the art on the walls, he can’t seem to calm down. His fingers shake at his sides and his chest feels tight, still reeling from moments ago when Oikawa’s face had first been revealed. He’s not entirely sure how he’s feeling right now; an unidentifiable mixture of betrayal, anger and upset.

“What the hell have you gotten yourself into this time, Tooru?” Iwaizumi whispers, but only the delicate figures in the paintings on the walls can hear him, and no answer comes.


End file.
